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TEE 

LIFE 

OF 

WILLIAM COWPER, 

ESQUIRE. "" 

WITH CRITICAL OBSERVATIONS 
ON HIS 

POEMS. 



BY JOHN CORRY, 

AUTHOR OF tc A SATIRICAL VIEW OF LONDON," 
" THE DETECTOR OF QJJACKERY," ETC. 



Poets themselves must fall, like those they sung, 

Deaf the prais'd ear, and mute the tuneful tongue,— —POPE, 



LONDON: 

PRINTED FOR VERNOR AND HOOD, POULTRY^ 

BY JAMES SWAN, ANGEL STREET, 

NEWGATE STREET. 



1803. 






35068 



{Entered at Stationers' Hall.~\ 






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TO 

MRS. ELIZABETH COREY, 

OF NEWRY, 

IRELAND. 

Obedient to the dictates of the 

heart, I inscribe this little book as a 

tribute of filial affection to a good 
mother. 

Your life has hitherto been varied by 
many vicissitudes, and in every situation 
you have been respectable. I have seen 
you in the prime of life, and in the 
bloom of beauty, smiling in health, and 
blessed with prosperity; and have after- 
wards beheld you struggling against ad- 
versity and disease, with the dignified 
fortitude of a Christian matron. 



I 



DEDICATION. 

Convinced that filial affection is the 
first of the social virtues, and next in 
degree to piety to the Creator, I dedicate 
to you this biographical sketch of a great 
poet, as a public testimony of my grati- 
tude. 

With the sincerest wish, that the re- 
mainder of your days may be passed in 
pious resignation, and that your tran- 
sition to a better world may be easy 
and calm, I am, my dear and venera- 
ted parent, 

Your affectionate son, 

JOHN CORKY. 

London, January. 
X5, 1803. 



PREFACE. 



This volume contains an authentic detail of 
the most remarkable events of Cowper's life. 
The amateur of printed paper may indeed ob- 
ject to this little book, and consider it as very 
imperfect; but the same objection may also 
be made to those ponderous octavo and quarto 
volumes of biography, the essence of which 
might be comprised in a few pages. 

Indeed the admirers of voluminous biogra- 
phy will probably find, that such expensive 
publications resemble an American farm, 
where an extensive space is cultivated with 
little produce. But the waste of money and 
of time is not the only loss to which the read- 
er of biographical compilations is exposed: 
he may also dread the depravation of his mo- 



• 



PREFACE. 

rals, by the pernicious sentiments dissemina- 
ted by the abettors of what they call, the new 
philosophy. 

These cunning and selfish beings, under the 
semblance of philanthropy, secretly aim at 
the subversion of Christianity and social hap- 
piness, by the inculcation of infidelity and 
materialism. Nay, a writer of this fraterni- 
ty, who has attached the title of reverend to 
his name, has indirectly endeavoured to prove 
the similitude and consanguinity of the ape 
and orang-outang to the human species! * 



THE LIFE 



OF 



WILLIAM COWPER, ESQ. 



Among those favourites of nature, whose 
superior endowments have contributed to the 
knowledge and happiness of mankind, the 
true poet has ever been regarded with the 
highest degree of veneration. To give authen- 
tic memorials of the great dead is the honour- 
able employment of the biographer, and his 
records, when authentic, form one of the 
most amusing and delightful species of lite- 
rary composition. Indeed, when we con- 
template the monuments of departed genius 
and virtue, we are ready to exclaim, " im- 
mortals have been here !" While the historic 
muse, by transmitting to future ages the 
biography of the legislator, the sage, the poet, 
and the patriot, excites congenial spirits to 
successful emulation. 

B 




I 



6 LIFE OF COWPER. 

It is, however, a delicate and a difficult task 
to write the life of an eminent man, who has 
recently departed from this " visible diur- 
nal sphere," to another, and, we truft, a hap- 
pier state of existence. Free strictures on 
the foibles of the deceased offend the partial 
ear of friendfhip ; and panegyric is grating to 
rival, or contemporary genius : How then is 
the biographer to proceed ? — By giving an 
impartial history of the man : — and such shall 
be the following biographical sketch of the 
greatest poet ol the age : a writer in whose 
mind the strange extremes of imbecility and 
energy were alternately predominant. 

William Cowper, the eldest son of John 
Cowper, D. D. was born at Great Berk- 
hampftead, in Hertfordshire, on the 15th of 
November, 1731. His father was rector of 
that place, and the second in descent from 
Earl Cowper, lord chancellor of England. 

During his infancy, Cowper gave no indi- 
cations of superior genius, but is said to have 
been considered, by his father, as a boy of 
dull faculties, and incapable of arriving at 



LIFE OF COWPER. J 

any degree of eminence. His constitutional 
melancholy, probably, gave an inanimated 
cast to his features ; but his excessive grief 
on the death of his mother, a misfortune 
which happened in the ninth year oi his age, 
fully evinced that melting sensibility, which 
was one of his most pleasing characteristics. 
This early impression of grief on his na- 
turally pensive disposition, for some time, 
threatened to injure his health; but his ju- 
venile amusements gradually obliterated the 
mournful remembrance from his mind. 

Cowper was educated at Westminter school, 
where his natural timidity was increased by 
the arrogant and boisterous behaviour of some 
of his school-fellows. By others of his fel- 
low students, to whom his worth was known, 
he was ever treated with the respect due to 
merit, and his strong satirical wit rendered 
him a most entertaining companion. 

To the turbulence of those young gentle- 
men, who insulted or irritated our bard, the 
world is probably indebted for " Tirocinium, 
or a Review of Schools, " a poem ; in which 



i 



8 LIFE OF COWPER. 

he describes such public institutions in the 
following caustic, and, it must be acknow- 
ledged, illiberal satire : 

" Would you your son should be a sot or dunce, 
Lascivious, headstrong, or all these at once ; 
Train him in public with a mob of boys. 
Childish in mischief only and in noise, 
Else of a mannish growth, and five in ten 
In infidelity and lewdness men." 

This is erroneous and misapplied censure ; 
ior, though some abuses undoubtedly have 
crept into our public schools and colleges, 
yet they are still the nurseries of that know- 
ledge and genius so highly conducive to the 
general weal. Indeed, the great error of sa- 
tirists, theorists, and reformers is, their in- 
sisting upon the necessity of abolishing esta- 
blishments, without substituting any thing of 
equal utility. 

But to return to our subject. Being in- 
tended, by his relatives, to fill the place of 
clerk to the House of Lords, he went from 
school to the Inner Temple, to study the law. 
His natural diffidence, however, was an in- 



LIFE OF COWPER. q 

surmountable obstacle to that advancement in 
public life, of which he had so fair a prospect; 
and the love of retirement became his predo- 
minant passion. 

Even from his earliest years, Cowper seems 
to have been the votary of nature. This he 
has well described in the first book of the 
Task, where, speaking of his juvenile amuse- 
ments, he fays, 

" I have lov'd the rural walk through lanes 

Of grassy swarth, close cropt with nibbling sheep, 

And skirted thick with intertexture firm 

Of thorny boughs ; have lov'd the rural walk 

O'er hills, through valleys, and by river's brink, 

E'er since a truant boy I pass'd my bounds 

T'enjoy a ramble on the banks of Thames; 

And still remember, not without regret, 

Of hours that sorrow since has much endear'd, 

How oft, my slice of pocket store consum'd, 

Still hung'ring, penny less, and far from home, 

I fed on scarlet hips and stony haws, 

Or blushing crabs, or berries, that imboss 

The bramble, black as jet, or sloe austere." 

In the fourth book of the same poem he 
describes his boyish partiality for rural re- 



*0 LIFE OF COWPER. 

tirement, and the pleasures he derived from 
the perusal of those poets who had tuned the 
lyre to the praise of pastoral life. 

" The country wins me still, there early stray'd 

My fancy, ere yet liberty of choice 

Had form'd me, or the hope of being free. 

My very dreams were rural ; rural, too, 

The first-born efforts of my youthful muse, 

Sportive and jingling her poetic bells 

Ere yet her ear was mistress of their pow'rs. 

No bard could please me but whose lyre was tun'd 

To nature's praises. Heroes and their feats 

Fatigu'd me, never weary of the pipe 

Of Tityrus, assembling, as he sang, 

The rustic throng beneath his fav'rite beech. 

Then Milton had indeed a poet's charms : 

New to my taste, his Paradise surpass'd 

The struggling efforts of my boyish tongue 

To speak its excellence. I danc'd for joy. 

I marvell'd much, that, at so ripe an age 

As twice seven years, his beauties had then first 

Engag'd my wonder. ******** 

#############**#### 

I studied, priz'd, and wish'd that I had known 
Ingenious Cowley." 

Of the first productions of his ' boyish 
muse J probably no fragments remain ; and 
that they were trivial, may be justly inferred 



LIFE OF COWPER. 11 

from the manner in which he fpeaks of them 
in the above quotation. 

There is a vague account given, in some 
of the periodical publications, that Cowper, 
while at the Temple, often associated with 
the most eminent literary characters of the 
day, and was distinguished by the sprightli- 
ness of his wit and his pleasing colloquial 
powers. But vivacity certainly was not 
a characteristic of our bard : a gloomy pen- 
siveness, which too soon subsided into habi- 
tual melancholy, was the prominent feature 
of his mind ; and it is evident, from his oc- 
casional visits to the country, that, disgusted 
with the bustle, noise, and licentiousness of 
this populous capital, he preferred the quies- 
cence of retirement. Nay, it is a well known 
fact, that now, when he had attained maturity, 
instead of devoting his mind to the dry and 
arduous study of jurisprudence, he spent the 
summer at Cole-Green, near Hertford. This 
elegant seat of Earl Cowper, his relation, was 
built by the Lord Chancellor Cowper, and 
amid its blooming shrubberies and groves our 
poet early poured his votive lay to nature. 



IS LIFE OF COWPER. 

With what rapture does he speak of those 
peaceful enjoyments ! 

# * # * <<The deep recess of dusky groves, 

Or forest where the deer securely roves, 

The fall of waters, and the song of birds, 

The hills that echo to the distant herds, 

Are luxuries excelling all the glare 

The world can boast, and her chief fav'rites share. 

With eager step and carelessly arrayed, 

For such a cause the poet seeks the shade, 

From all he sees he catches new delight, 

Pleas'd fancy claps her pinions at the sight, 

The rising or the setting orb of day, 

The clouds that flit, or slowly float away, 

Nature in all the various shapes she wears, 

Frowning in storms, or breathing gentle airs, 

The snowy robe herwint'ry state assumes, 

The summer heats, her fruits and her perfumes— r 

All, all alike transport the glowing bard, 

Success in rhyme his glory and reward. 

Oh nature! whose elysian scenes disclose 

His bright perfections, at whose word they rose, 

Next to that pow'r who form'd thee and sustains, 

Be thou the great inspirer of my strains." 

But. the pure delight which he tasted in 
those healthful and charming scenes too soon 
gave place to encroaching melancholy. In- 
deed, seclusion has a tendency to render the 



THE LIFE OF COWPER. 13 

most cheerful disposition pensive. Those 
persons, who imagined rural amusements 
would restore vivacity, have generally disco- 
vered, with Thomson, that 

" In ev'ry breeze the pow'r 
Of philosophic melancholy comes. " 

The benign Creator undoubtedly intended 
man for society, and it is a violation of the 
established order of things, for a youthful and 
active mind to shrink into seclusion, like the 
snail into its solitary shell. No; let every 
individual, according to their capacity, first 
exercise their powers for the benefit of them- 
selves and others : let them finish their course, 
and then retire, like the exit of Augustus, 
amid the plaudits of their fellow creatures, 
and bleft with the approbation of their own 
conscience. 

Cowper's pensiveness gradually became 
habitual, and seems to have completely over- 
whelmed the faculties of his mind ; insomuch 
that he not only was disqualified by timidity 
for his public office, but sometimes languished 
under a temporary mental derangement. 



14 THE LIFE OF COWPER. 

These affecting circumstances are well de- 
scribed by Mr. Greathead, in his sermon, 
preached at Olney, on the death of the poet. 

" When at a mature age, he was appointed 
to a lucrative and honourable station in the 
law, he shrunk with the greatest terror from 
the appearance which it required him to make 
before the upper house of parliament. While 
revolving the consequences of relinquishing 
the post to which he had been nominated ; he 
wished for madness, as the only apparent 
means by which his perplexity and distress 
could be terminated. Desperation drove him 
to attempt self-murder — his friends no longer 
persisted in urging him to retain his office. It 
was resigned ; and with it his flattering pro- 
spects vanished, and his connexions with the 
world dissolved." 

Thus, in the prime of manhood, our poet 
relinquished the various gratifications present- 
ed by society in its most polished state, and 
preferred voluntary seclusion. This event, 
however, was of the utmost importance, not 
only to his countrymen, but the whole human 



THE LIFE OF COWPER*. 1$ 

species ; for, had the amiable Cowper em- 
braced a public employment, we should never 
have been instructed and delighted by his 
poems. So true is the aphorism of Pope, 

" Partial evil 5 s universal good." 

Timidity carried the sweet bard of the Ouse 
into retirement, where reflection, combined 
with genius, produced " The Task," one of 
the most pleasing and instructive poems in 
our language. 

As the father of our poet was a clergyman, 
he had been accustomed, irom his infancy, to 
the decent performance of domestic worship, 
and a reverence for the divine truths of reve- 
lation. When he afterwards mingled with 
the busy world, and beheld its various amuse- 
ments and pleasures, the early impression of 
piety preserved him from the contagious in- 
fluence of surrounding vice : so true are his 
own remarks on education : 

" 'Tis granted, and no plainer truth appears, 
Our most important are our early years. 
The mind, impressible and soft, with ease 
Imbibes and copies what she hears and sees, 



l6 THE LIFE OF COWPER. 

And through the rest of life holds fast the clue 
That education gives her, false or true." 

A mind, however, strong and ardent, like 
his, must have contemplated the elegant 
amusements of the capital with emotion ; and 
that he was an attentive observer of men and 
manners, is evident from his satirical writings. 

Immediately after his attempt on his own 
life, he was placed by his friends undir the 
care of Dr. Cotton of St. Albans. This pi- 
ous and humane physician, by the most ten- 
der attention, alleviated the horrors of Cow- 
per's mind ; and a still farther degree of con- 
solation was imparted by his relative, the 
Rev. Mr. Madan. 

But the Scriptures presented the true and 
healing balm of comfort to his agonized mind. 
It will doubtless be interesting to the lovers of 
truth, to learn that the following passage, in 
the " lively Oracles" first gave Cowper a 
clear view of the Gospel, and dispelled his 
gloomy doubts : " All have sinned and come 
short of the glory of God; being justified 



LIFE OF COWPER. 1J 

freely by his grace, through the redemption 
that is in Jesus Christ: whom God hath set 
forth (or foreordained) to be a propitiation, 
through faith in his blood, to declare his 
righteousness for the remission of sins that 
are past, through the forbearance of God,'* 
Romans iii. 23, 24, and 25. 

Excessive joy accompanied this holy con- 
viction, insomuch that it almost prevented 
his necessary sleep. This blissful transition 
is described with great energy and pathos in 
the following quotation from his " Hope :'* 

" As when a feion, whom his country's laws 
Have justly doom'd for some atrocious cause, 
Expects, in darkness and heart-chilling fears, 
The shameful close of all his mispent years; 
If chance, on heavy pinions slowly borne, 
A tempest usher in the dreaded morn, 
Upon his dungeon walls the lightnings play, 
The thunder seems to summon him away, 
The warder at his door the key applies, 
Shuts back the bolt, and all his courage dies : 
If then, just then, all thoughts of mercy lost, 
When hope, long ling'ring, at last yields the ghost a 
The sound of pardon pierce his startled ear, 
He drops at once his fetters and his fear 5. 



~l8 LIFE OF COWPER. 

A transport glows in all he looks and speaks, 
And the first thankful tears bedew his cheeks. 
Joy, far superior joy, that much outweighs 
The comfort of a few poor added days, 
Invades, possesses, and o'erwhelms the soul 
Of him whom hope hath with a touch made whole. 
'Tis heav'n, all heav'n, descending on the wings 
Of the glad legions of the King of Kings ; 
'Tis more — 'tis God diffus'd through ev'ry part, 
'Tis God himself triumphant in his heart! 
O ! welcome now the sun's once hated light, 
His noon-day beams were never half so bright. 
Not kindred minds alone are call'd t' employ 
Their hours, their days, in list'ning to his joy ; 
Unconscious nature, all that he surveys, 
Rocks, groves, and streams, must join him in his 
praise." 

Such was the triumphant joy derived by 
Cowper from that Gospel, which is able to 
" make us wise unto salvation. " 

This happy change was wrought in his 
mind about the year 1763, when he was 
one and thirty. He continued at St. Al- 
bans during the year 1764, where the con- 
versation of Dr. Cotton at once strengthened 
his religious sentiments, and refined his taste. 



LIFE OF COWPER. ig 

From St. Albans he went, in 1765, to 
Huntingdon, where he accidentally became 
acquainted with the Rev. Mr. Unwin, a re- 
spectable clergyman. He remained two years 
at Huntingdon in the closest friendship with 
Mr. Unwin, and, after the death of that friend, 
he retired with his widow to Olney, the most 
northern town in Buckinghamshire. 

Speaking of his retirement, he says, 

" I was a stricken deer, that left the herd, 

############# 

****** I withdrew * * * 
To seek a tranquil death in distant shades. 
There I was found by one who had himself 
Been hurt by th' archers. ***** 
With gentle force soliciting the darts, 
He drew them forth, andheal'd, and bade me live. 
Since then, with few associates, in remote 
And silent woods, I wander, far from those 
My former partners of the peopled scene ; 
Here much I ruminate, as much I may, 
With other views of men and manners now 
Than once, and others of a life to come. 
I see that all are wand'rers, gone astray 
Each in his own delusions; they are lost 
In chase of fancied happiness, still woo'd 
But never won." 



%Q LIFE OF COWPER. 

His principal motive for chusing this re- 
tired spot was, that he might indulge amid 
the simplicity of rural life, those religious 
pleasures and occupations, so congenial to his 
mind. At Olney Mrs. Unwin rented a small 
house and garden, at about twelve pounds a 
year ; our poet lived with his friend as a 
boarder ; and they kept only one maid ser- 
vant, a gardener, and a footman. 

In this sweet retirement, Cowper assidu- 
ously cultivated that poetic talent, of which 
he has given the world such imperishable me- 
morials, though he speaks of his own works 
with great modesty. 

" Me poetry ******* 
Employs, shut out from more important views, 
Fast by the banks of the slow winding Ouse ; 
Content if, thus sequester'd, I may raise 
A monitor's, though not a poet's, praise ; 
And while I teach^an art too little known, 
To close life wisely, may not waste my own." 

The seclusion of Cowper, however, did 
not prevent him from the exercise of that ge- 
nerosity and beneficence, which were his most 
prominent characteristics. By adhereing to 



LIFE OF COWPER. 2i 

systematic economy, he was enabled, with 
a moderate income, to contribute to the com- 
fort of indigent worth, and in these charita- 
ble labours he was assisted by his pious friend, 
Mrs. Unwin. 

This was undoubtedly the happiest period 
of Cowper's life. Blest with health and "that 
sweet peace that goodness bosoms ever, ,, he 
passed his days in the unremitted practice of 
piety and beneficence. The Rev. John New- 
ton, then minister of Olney, held prayer- 
meetings, about twice a week, with his pa- 
rishioners, in rotation, and our poet, with all 
the humility of a devout Christian, joined 
this respectable communion. Mr. Great- 
head, speaking of this circumstance, says, in 
the before-mentioned sermon, " Often have 
I heard described the condescension with 
which our deceased friend listened to your 
religious converse, the sympathy with which 
he soothed your distresses, and the wisdom 
with which he imparted needful advice. At 
your stated meetings for prayer, often have 
you heard him pour forth his heart before 
God, in earnest intercession, with a devotion 
c 



22 LIFE OF COWPER. 

equally simple, sublime, and fervent, adapt- 
ed to the unusual combination of elevated 
genius, exquisite sensibility, and profound 
piety, that distinguished his mind." 

Charity, the faithful companion of sincere 
piety, was in the mind of Cowper a perpe- 
tual motive to good actions. From his 
knowledge of the law, he was qualified to 
give advice, which he was always ready to 
impart, without remuneration, to whoever ap- 
plied. Many difficult cases were left to his 
decision, and his conciliatory advice, in se- 
veral instances, prevented litigation. 

His generous heart was " open as day to 
melting charity, 5 ' and numbers of the wor- 
thy, but indigent, inhabitants of Olney yet 
bear in grateful remembrance his liberal be- 
nefactions. Accompanied by his beloved 
friend, Mrs.Unwin, he sought modest, pining 
want in the recesses of the cottage, and, with 
unostentatious goodness, at once opened his 
purse to relieve, and poured the balm of con- 
solation over the wounded spirit of the fa- 
therless and the widow. Like a ministering 



LIFE OF COWPERV 23 

angel, in imitation of his divine Master* " he 
went about doing good" and prudently pro- 
portioned his gifts to the particular exigen- 
cies of the individual. 

To some superannuated, or destitute per- 
sons, he gave the small annuity of a guinea, . 
beside occasional presents of necessaries, 
such as groceries, linen, and flannel. At the 
beginning of winter, he also supplied numbers 
of the industrious poor with fuel and coarse 
warm cloathing, to enable them to endure 
the rigour of the season. These well-timed 
benefactions, together with the influence of a 
pious life and blameless manners, rendered 
our poet a blessing to all around him. In 
some instances, where the indigent were par- 
ticularly worthy, he regularly sent to them 
twice every year a sum sufficient to pay the 
rent of their cottages; and, even after his re- 
moval from Olney, continued these acts of 
humanity till his decease ! 

Cowper's principal benefactions were 
bestowed on widows, who, by honest in- 
dustry, endeavoured to live without being 



24 LIFE OF COWPER. 

chargeable to their parish. Such persons 
were certainly deserving objects, while his 
particular attention to their necessities at once 
evinced the excellence of his heart, and that 
respectful tenderness which he ever mani- 
fested for the fair- sex. 

His principal amusements, next to poetry, 
were walking and gardening. In his rambles 
he was generally accompanied by Mrs. Un- 
win, that amiable Mary, whom he has im- 
mortalized in his poems. 

On the 20th of March, 1770, our poet 
lost his only brother, the Rev. John Cowper, 
M. A. of whose character he wrote a sketch, 
lately published by Mr. Newton. A 
short extract from this simple and affecting 
narrative will at once give the reader a di- 
stinct idea of Cowper's zeal in the cause of 
truth, and a specimen of his prose. 

" As soon as it pleased God, " says he, " to 
visit me with the consolations of his grace, 
it became one of my chief concerns, that my 
relations might be made partakers of the same 



LIFE OF COWPER. 2£ 

mercy. In the first letter I wrote to my bro- 
ther, I took occasion to declare what God 
had done for my soul ; and am not conscious 
that, from that period down to his last illness, 
I wilfully neglected an opportunity of en- 
gaging him, if it were possible, in conversa- 
tion of a spiritual kind. When I left St. Al- 
bans*, and went to visit him at Cambridge, 
my heart being full of the subject, I poured 
it out before him without reserve, and, in all 
my subsequent dealings with him, as far as I 
was enabled, took care to show that I had re- 
ceived not merely a set of notions, but a real 
impression of the truths of the Gospel. 



M He was a man of a most candid and in- 
genuous spirit; his temper remarkably sweet ; 
and, in his behaviour to me, he had always 
manifested an uncommon affection. 



M We spent two years, conversing as oc- 
casion offered, and we generally visited 

* In the year 1765, when the poet was thirty- 
three years of age. 



26 LIFE O* COWPERc 

each other once or twice a week, <as long as 
I continued at Huntingdon, upon the leading 
truths of the Gospel. By this time, however, 
he began to be more reserved ; he would hear 
me patiently, but never reply. 



" When our family removed to Olney, 
our intercourse became less frequent. We 
exchanged our annual visit; and whenever 
he came amongst us, he observed the same 
conduct, conforming to all our customs, at- 
tending family worship with us, and heard 
the preaching, received civilly whatever 
passed in conversation upon the subject, but 
adhered strictly to the rule he had prescribed 
to himself, never remarking upon, or object- 
ing to, any thing he heard or saw. 



" On the 16th of February, 1770, I was 
summoned to attend him, (at Cambridge), by 
letters, which represented him so ill, that 
the physician entertained little hopes of his 
recovery. I found him afflicted with the 
asthma and dropsy, supposed to be the effect 



LIFE OF GOW2ER. 2/ 

of an imposthume in his liver. He was, 
however, cheerful when I first arrived, ex- 
pressed great joy at seeing me, thought him- 
self much better than he had been, and 
seemed to flatter himself with hopes that he 
should be well again." 

A most affecting and circumstantial account 
of the sudden and mysterious change in his 
brother's sentiments, and his subsequent 
behaviour, is afterwards given by the poet, 
for which the reader is referred to the narra- 
tive* itself. Towards the conclusion we are 
informed that he died on the 20th of March, 
1770. 

His grief on the death of a beloved brottier 
affected the health of Cowper. He relapsed 
into despondency, and refused consolation. 
When we reflect on the insanity of this great 
and good man, we may well exclaim, 

" O what a noble mind is here o'erthrown 1" 



* Published by Williams, Stationer's Court. 



s8 uff or COWPER. 

Previous to this calamitous change, he had 
lived some years in that pious serenity al- 
ready described ; and his poetical productions 
were chiefly hymns, which, to the number of 
sixty-eight, were published in the Olney col- 
lection, with the signature C. Their ex- 
cellence requires no eulogium; they have 
already strengthened the faith and cherished 
the zeal oi thousands, and will doubtless, 
like the celestial strains of Watts, invigorate 
the mind of the pious reader for ages to 
come. 

A tedious indisposition for several years 
afflicted the unhappy bard, and the dreadful 
idea, that he was forsaken by his Creator, 
was predominant in his mind. " At times, 
indeed, after more than twelve years of un- 
interrupted despair,' ' says Mr. Greathead, 
" some transient changes of his mental sen- 
sations admitted a gleam of hope, of which 
he immediately availed himself, for a re- 
newal of intercourse with God. He prayed 
in private, as before his affliction, and even 
his slumbers were thus delightfully occupied. 
He has spoken of such nights, compared 



LIF& OF COWPER. 29 

with those he usually endured, as passed on a 
bed of rose-leaves instead of fiery tortures, 
and as a transition from hell to heaven/' 

The following anecdote will enable the 
reader to judge of the hopeless state in which 
the unhappy poet sometimes languished. 
During his morning walk with Mrs. Unwin, 
a hare at full speed passed before them, pur- 
sued by the hounds. " See,'* exclaimed he, 
V that poor hare ! hunted by those sanguinary 
animals ! — such is the state of a soul tormented 
by hell-hounds — such, alas ! is mine J" While 
in this deplorable state, he seldom conversed 
with his companion, but walked on, with his 
eyes fixed on the ground, and entirely ab- 
sorbed by melancholy. 

In the spring of 1782, the first volume of 
his poems was published, when the author 
was in the fifty-first year of his age. Al- 
though there are several beautiful passages in 
this volume, it obtained little notice till the 
appearance of " The Task;" a production 
which established the reputation of the au- 
thor. 



gO LIFE OF COWPER. 

It appears that his constitution had suffered 
so severely from his tedious indisposition, 
that he never entirely regained a permanent 
state of health, though the most tender atten- 
tion was paid to him by Mrs. Unwin. This 
amiable inmate, with that exalted self-denial 
and attachment for which the fair sex are so 
pre-eminent, watched over the unhappy poet 
with all the solicitude of a friend. Nay, she 
even attended him with such fidelity, that she 
slept in a separate bed in the same apartment, 
anxiously attentive to the preservation of a 
man so dear, and voluntarily resigned the 
comforts of society and public worship to 
mitigate the distress of afflicted virtue ! 

According to the account of the person 
who attended Cowper during his indisposi- 
tion, it appears that Mrs. Unwin was obliged 
to have recourse to stratagem, as well as per- 
suasion, especially when his head was disor- 
dered, in order to induce him to remain in 
bed. On these occasions the unhappy poet 
would continue groaning and sighing during 
the night, and, when he arose, he wrote the 
most severe things imaginable against himself. 



THE LIFE OF COWPER. 31 

On the morning of his departure from Ol- 
ney to Weston, he wrote the following verses 
on his window shutter : 

" Me, miserable! how could I escape 
Infinite wrath, and infinite despair ! 
When death, earth, heaven, and all, consign'd to 

ruin, 
Whose friend ivas God, but God swore not to 
aid me!" 

These lines were evidently written in a 
state of derangement, and impress the reader 
with a degree of horror. 

Exercise in the open air, the conversation 
of his friends, and the favourable reception 
which his poems met with from the critics 
and the public, contributed to restore the 
poet's cheerfulness, and enabled him to pur- 
sue his studies, insomuch that in the year 
1785 he published his greatest work, " The 
Task ;" a production which has placed him 
in the first rank of English poets. 

" The history of this poem," to use his own 
words, " is briefly this : — A lady, fond pf 






32 THE LIFI OF COWPER. 

blank verse, demanded a poem of that kind 
from the author, and gave him the sofa for 
a subject. He obeyed ; and having much 
leisure, connected another subject with it; 
and, pursuing the train of thought to which 
his situation and turn of mind led him, 
brought forth, at length, instead of the trifle 
which he at first intended, a serious affair — a 
volume." 

To such trivial incidents are mankind fome- 
times indebted for the most beneficial conse- 
quences ; for the people of England have in 
this instance acquired an accession of ele- 
gance and genius, which is not only pleasing 
to them as rational beings, but must naturally 
be gratifying to them as patriots. 

'• The Task" is indeed a noble production : 
a work, of which many passages may, for 
ethical purity and sublime and beautiful de- 
scription, be compared with the Paradise Lost 
itself. In this admirable poem the combined 
beauties of descriptive, humorous, and di- 
dactic composition present a most delightful 
Variety to the reader. 



LIFE OF COWPER. gg 

This poem established the reputation of 
Cowper ; but the unhappy bard again sunk 
into a state of despondency, which neither 
human skill nor the applause of mankind 
could mitigate or remove. It appears that, in 
consequence of an acquaintance formed with 
Mr. Throckmorton, of Weston-Underwood, 
he removed to that village, which is about a 
mile distant from Olnqy. Thither he was 
accompanied by Mrs. Unwin, whose friend- 
ship neither time nor change could diminish. 

Our poet's principal motive for removing 
to Weston was, that he might be daily grati- 
fied with the beautiful rural scenery of Mr. 
Throckmorton's demesne, which he has de- 
scribed so admirably in the first book of his 
Task. Previous to his removal, he became 
acquainted with Lady Austin. This was the 
lady to whose influence with our poet the 
world is indebted for his most excellent 
poem. She was then about forty years of 
age ; not remarkable for personal attrac- 
tions, but of the most engaging manners and 
exquisite taste. Lady Austin resided at 
Clifton, a village in the vicinity of Olney; 



34 LIFE OF COWPER. 

and, in her daily interviews with Cowper, is 
said to have engaged his affections, insomuch 
that a private union was determined on, and 
a post-chaise hired to convey them from Ol- 
ney. This circumstance led to the discovery 
of the plan; and Mrs. Unwin, considering 
such an attachment as injurious, and arising 
merely from the poet's imbecility, inter-, 
fered, and, by her authority and influence, 
persuaded him to relinquish such a chimeri- 
cal project. 

Lady Austin, a few years afterwards, mar- 
ried a French emigrant, and, since the peace, 
she went with him to Paris, where she died, 
in the beginning of September, 1802. 

At Weston our poet was treated with the 
greatest respect by Mr. Throckmorton and 
his family. This intercourse seems to have 
been a source of much gratification to Cow- 
per, who has accurately described the sur- 
rounding landscape in the following animated 
passage, which commences with an address 
to Mrs. Unwin : 



LIFE OF COWPER. 35 

M Witness, dear companion, of my walks, 
Whose arm this twentieth winter I perceive 
Fast lock'd in mine, with pleasure such as love, 
Confirm'd by long experience of thy worth 
And well-tried virtues, could alone inspire— 
Witness a joy that thou hast doubled long. 
Thou know'stmy praise of nature most sincere, 
And that my raptures are not conjur'd up 
To serve occasions of poetic pomp, 
But genuine, and art partner of them all. 
How oft upon yon eminence our pace 
Has slacken'd to a pause, and we have borne 
The ruffling wind, scarce conscious that it blew, 
While admiration, feeding at the eye, 
And still unsated, dwelt upon the scene. 
Thence with what pleasure have we just discern'd 
The distant plough slow moving, and beside 
His lab'ring team, that swerv'd not from the track, 
The sturdy swain diminish'd to a boy ! 
Here Ouse, slow-winding through a level plain 
Of spacious meads, with cattle sprinkled o'er, 
Conducts the eye along his sinuous course, 
Delighted. There, fast-rooted in their bank, 
Stand, never overlook'd, our fav'rite elms, 
That screen the herdsman's solitary hut ; 
While far beyond, and overthwart the stream, 
That, as with molten glass, inlays the vale, 
The sloping land recedes into the clouds ; 
Displaying on its varied side the grace 
Of hedge-row beauties numberless, square tow'r, 






36 LIFE OF COWPEH. 

Tall spire, from which the sound of cheerful bells 
Just undulates upon the list'ning ear, 
Groves, heaths, and smoking villages, remote. 
Scenes must be beautiful, which, daily view'd, 
Please daily, and whose novelty survives 
Long knowledge, and the scrutiny of years. 
Praise justly due to those that I describe." 

This description is at once so strong and 
accurate, that it might furnish the landscape- 
painter with ideas for a sketch of the environs 
of Olney. The " eminence" mentioned by 
the poet, is called Uver's-Hill, which com- 
mands a prospect of the subjacent meadows, 
divided by the winding Ouse. Adjacent to 
the village of Emberton, on the opposite 
bank of the river, appears " the herdsman's 
solitary hut." 

It appears that Cowper and his friend re- 
moved from Olney to Weston in 1787, two 
years after the second volume of his poems 
was published. From a few poems, published 
in the last edition, it is evident that he lived 
on terms of social familiarity with Mr. 
Throckmorton and his family, who doubtless 
were much gratified with the intercourse ; for 



LIFE OF COWPER. 3? 

who would not be proud to have been ac- 
quainted with the author of the Task ? 

Some of these little pieces are the sportive 
effusions of good humour, particularly the 
Ode on the death of Mrs. Throckmorton's 
Bullfinch. There is a mixture of humour 
and sentiment in this little piece ; yet, as it 
reminds us of Gray's Ode on a Cat, we 
are almost ready to censure the misapplica- 
tion of superior talents to such a trifling 
subject. 

The Poet's New Year's Gift to Mrs. 
Throckmorton is certainly an elegant me- 
morial of friendship. But the piece, enti- 
tled, " Catharina" is particularly pleasing ; 
at once evincing, as it does, the intimacy in 
which he lived with a respectable and amiable 
family, and his exquisite sensibility and 
taste. 

With what pathetic regret does he mention 
the departure of Miss Stapleton, who had 
been on a visit to Weston ! 



38 LI FE OF COWPER. 

She came— ^she is gone—we have met — 

And meet perhaps never again ; 
The sun of that moment is set, 

And seems to have risen in vain. 

The last evening ramble we made, 

Catharina # , Mariaf, and I, 
Our progress was often delay'd 
. By the nightingale warbling nigh. 
We paus'd under many a tree, 

And much she was charm' d with a tone,. 
Less sweet to Maria and me, 

Who had witness'd so lately her own. 

My numbers that day she had sung, 

And gave them a grace so divine, 
As only her musical tongue 

Could infuse into numbers of mine. 
The longer I heard, I esteem'd 

The work of my fancy the more, 
And e'en to myself never seem'd 

So tuneful a poet before. 

In consequence of the infirmities of Mrs. 
Unwin, who was now in the decline of life, 
she became incapable of attending to the do- 

* Miss Stapleton. f Mrs. Throckmorton. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 39 

mestic affairs of our poet, and Lady Hesketh, 
his relative, with generous sympathy, de- 
voted her attention to the alleviation of his 
afflictions. Cowper had not attended public 
worship for several years, previous to his re- 
moval to Weston ; but his intimacy with Mr. 
Throckmorton, who was a Roman Catholic, 
does not appear to have effected any change in 
his religious principles. 

The following anecdote will give some 
idea of the terrors that sometimes afflicted 
the poet. During a visit to Lady Austin, at 
Clifton, Cowper appeared at table absorbed 
in gloomy reflection, when one of the com- 
pany, wishing to console him, said, "There 
can be no doubt, Mr. Cowper, that you will 
be happy. " The poet seized a wine-glass, 
and dashing it on the floor, exclaimed, " I 
shall be damned as sure as that glass is 
broke!" — The glass continued unbroken. 
" There, Mr. Cowper," said his friend, 
4< you see the glass is whole !" 

Soon after the second volume of his poems 
was published, he engaged in an arduous un- 



4° LIFE OF COWPER. 

dertaking — the translation of the Iliad and 
Odyssey of Homer into blank verse. This 
work, which he pursued with the utmost dili- 
gence and perseverance, was published by sub- 
scription, in two volumes, 4to, in 1791. The 
translator retained the copyright, and a se- 
cond edition, corrected by him, and illustrated 
by notes, has recently been published by his 
kinsman, the Rev. J. Johnson. 

A pension* of 300I. a year had, unknown 
toCowper, been solicited for him by a friend. 
This gift of royal munificence was imparted 
to him with the utmost delicacy : he accepted 
it ; but, to the last moment of his life, re- 
tained that generous love of liberty, that in- 
tegrity and independence of soul, so well 
described in the Task. 

This well-timed annuity enabled Cowper 
still further to extend his beneficence to his 

* This circumstance is mentioned by Mr. Cha- 
ter in his Poetical Tribute to the Memory of Cow- 
per. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 41 

indigent neighbours. If their gratitude, the 
tender assiduities of his friends, and the ap- 
probation of the public,, could have conferred 
felicity, Cowper would now have been hap- 
py : but the "foul fiend" melancholy, again 
came to obscure his fair prospects. 

In January 1794, when he had completed 
the revision of his translation of Homer, 
and while, with all the complacency of con- 
scious, but modest merit, he was thinking 
about the preface to a second edition, he sud- 
denly fell into a state of despondency,, and 
rejected all consolation. 

After languishing more than a year in this 
hopeless state,, he, in the summer 1795, re- 
moved from Weston to East Dereham in 
Norfolk, to the house of his, kinsman, the 
Rev. J. Johnson before-mentioned, and not- 
withstanding the consolatory attention of his 
friend, the unfortunate victim of melancholy 
continued despondent till the following sum- 
mer, when happy symptoms of convalescence 
appeared. 



42 LIFE OF COWPER. 

A domestic misfortune, which happened 
during his tedious indisposition, doubtless 
retarded his recovery. This was the death of 
his ever-faithful and beloved inmate, Mrs. 
Unwin, whose generous attachment has sel- 
dom been equalled. To a man of such ex- 
treme sensibility as Cowper, this loss must 
have been felt with the most poignant grief ; 
it was like breaking down one of the columns 
which supported the frail structure of his do- 
mestic happiness. 

In 1796, a copy of Wakefield's edition of 
the Iliad and Odyssey of Pope, in the pre- 
face . to which the editor had commended 
Cowper's translation, having been received 
by his friend Mr. Johnson, he placed it 
where it might meet the poet's observation. 
The experiment was sue cestui, for Cowper 
was gratified, resumed his studies, and again 
corrected his own translation, availing him- 
self of the hints given by the critic. 

It appears from Mr. Johnson's account, 
that the poet corrected about sixty lines a day, 



LIFE OF COWPER. 43 

and having revised one book, he closed his 
revision for the year 1796, in consequence of 
making an excursion to the sea-coast. 

In January 1797, Cowper proceeded with 
his revisal, which was continued, at inter- 
vals, with the usual interruptions of exercife 
in the open air, till July, 1798, when the 
correction of the Iliad was completed. On 
the 24th of the same month, the revision of 
the Odyssey was commenced, continued with 
little interruption, and finished in the spring 
of the year 1799. 



The gratification experienced by Cowpei 
in this elegant pursuit must have been very 
great, since it so essentially contributed to 
his serenity. Indeed his own words are a 
testimony of the pleasure he derived from this 
employment. " Now," says he, "I have 
only to regret that my pleasant work is ended. 
To the illustrious Greek I owe the smooth 
and easy flight of many thousand hours. He 
has been my companion at home and abroad 
-*-in the study — in the garden — and in the 



o 



44 LIFE OF COWPER. 

field; and no. measure of success, let my 
labours succeed as they may, will ever com- 
pensate to me the loss of the innocent luxury 
that I have enjoyed as a translator of Ho- 
mer." 

Such was the soothing delight communi- 
cated to Cowper by the works of the great 
master oi the epic lyre. Indeed, to use the 
beautiful illustration of Dr. Johnson, " He 
only is the master, who keeps the mind in 
pleasing captivity ; whose pages are perused 
with eagerness, and, in hope of new pleasure, 
are perused again; and whose conclusion is 
perceived with an eye of sorrow, suck as the 
traveller casts upon departing day" Such 
are the pages of Homer, which have so long 
contributed to the amusement of mankind, 
and which will be read with rapture while a 
taste for sublimity and pathos remains. 

" His name could more than one poor clime adorn, 
" For all the world is proud that he was born!" 

During the year 1799, Cowper enjoyed 
health and serenity of mind. This happy 



LIFE OF COWPER. 45 

state was promoted by the unremitting at- 
tention of those affectionate relatives with 
whom he resided. But at the close of the 
winter, he was afflicted with a disorder which 
brought on a rapid decline ; and this decay 
of his corporeal strength was unhappily ac- 
companied with a return of his former de- 
spondency. 

He languished in this hopeless state till the 
spring of 1800, and notwithstanding the con- 
solatory aid of his friend Mr. Johnson, who 
endeavoured to persuade him that the termi- 
nation of his earthly woe would be succeeded 
by celestial happiness, he refused comfort. 

His frame being quite exhausted, he, at 
length, sunk into a state of apparent insensi- 
bility. — His eyes remained half open, and his 
countenance continued serene. — Having been 
in this state about twelve hours, the mystic 
bonds of life were dissolved by a gentle ex- 
piration. He died at East Dereham, on the 
25th of April, 1800, in the 69th year of his 
age. " Tread lightly on his ashes, ye 



46 LIFE OF COWPER, 

men of genius, for he was your kinsman ■ 
Weed his grave clean, ye men of goodness, 
for he was a brother*!" 

Dr. Watts has given an affecting descrip- 
tion of the death of a desponding Christian- — 
" See ! within those curtains, a person of 
faith and serious piety, but of a melancholy 
constitution, and fearing death. Behold the 
man, a favourite of Heaven, a child of light, 
assaulted with the darts of hell, and, at the 
last gasp of life, when he seems to be sink- 
ing into eternal death, he quits the body, with 
all its sad circumstances, and feels himself 
safe in the arms of his Saviour, and the 
presence of his God!" Such, we humbly 
trust, was the blissful change which awaited 
the spirit of Cowper. 

The person of Cowper was elegant ; he 
was above the middle stature ; neither slen- 
der nor corpulent, but well proportioned. 
His countenance was very expressive ; some- 
times serene and smiling, when under the 
* Sterne. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 47 

influence of his characteristic philanthropy; 
and, at others, wild and gloomy, while he 
was overwhelmed with the horrors of de- 
spair. His forehead was large and prominent i 
impressed with the characters of penetration 
and genius; his nose slightly aquiline, and 
the lower part of his face pleasing. His 
complexion was swarthy, or rather sun-burnt, 
from his frequent exercise in the open air ; 
and his eyes were very penetrating. Their 
glance was so intelligent and expressive, that, 
to use the words of Sterne, they seemed 
to "look at something beyond this world" 
His voice was strong and masculine, he 
was easy of access, and affable, when in a 
state of health; but, often, when afflicted 
with melancholy, he was reserved and gloomy. 
Cowper, like several other literary men, took 
snuff in profusion. In his garb he was plain 
and neat, while he resided at Olney, and he 
then wore his hair short and unpowdered, as 
he says himself : 

* # # # " T n transitory life's late day, 
That mingled all his brown with sober grey." 



4P LIFE OF COWPER. 

, On his removal to Weston, however, in* 
consequence of his intimacy with the Throck- 
morton family, he adopted a more fashion- 
able dress ; and his hair was dressed and pow- 
dered, as it is represented in the portrait 
giveawith this sketch. 

Temperance and sobriety presided at his 
board, 'and his hours of rising and going to 
rest were strictly consistent with family de- 
corum. The morning was commonly de- 
voted to study, and before dinner he amused 
himself with working in his garden, After 
dinner he commonly took a walk, and spent 
the remainder of the day in that calm retire- 
ment so favourable to reflection, and so welJ 
described by himselL 

" The morning finds the self-sequester' d man, 
Fresh for his task, intent what task he may. 
Whether inclement seasons recommend 
His warm, but simple home, where he enjoys, 
With her who shares his pleasures and his heart, 
Sweet converse, sipping calm the fragiant lymph, 
Which- neatly she prepares; then to his book, 
Well chosen, and not sullenly perused 
In selfish silence, but imparted oft 



LIFE OF COWPER. 49 

As aught occurs that she may smile to hear, 
Or turn to nourishment, digested well. 
Or if the garden with its many cares, 
All well repaid, demand him, he attends 
The welcome call. ****** 



********* 

How various his employments, whom the world 
Calls idle ; and who justly, in return, 
Esteems that busy world an idler too?]*;* 
Friends, books, a garden, and perhaps his pen. 
Delightful industry enjoy'd at home, 
And Nature, in her cultivated trim, 
Dress'd to his taste, inviting him abroad — 
Me, therefore, studious of laborious ease, 
Not slothful ; happy to deceive the time, 
Not waste it; and, aware that human life 
Is but a loan to be repaid with use, 
When he shall call his debtors to account 
From whom are all our blessings ; bus'ness finds 
Ev'n here: while sedulous I seek t' improve, 
At least neglect not, or leave unemploy'd, 
The mind he gave me ; driving it, though slack 
Too oft and much impeded in its nvGrk 
By causes not to be divulg'd in <vain, 
To its just point the service of mankind. 

Who can read without regret, that a mind, so 
Well qualified to communicate instruction, was 



50 LIFE OF COWPER. 

" impeded in its work" especially when the 
obstacle was of such a nature as to be insu- 
perable by human wisdom. The sympathiz- 
ing bosom, even now, feels an agonizing sen- 
sation of tender sorrow for the unhappy bard, 
conscious that he is no longer liable to pain ; 
that he is now among the number of " the 
spirits of just men made perfect,' 9 and one of 
the heavenly choir, who came out of great 
tribulation, and stand clothed in white before 
the throne of God V 

In another passage Cowper mentions his- 
employments in a strain of cheerfulness which 
must be grateful to the benevolent reader. 

" Oh, blest seclusion from a jarring world! 
Had I the choice of sublunary good, 
What could I wish, that I possess not here? 
Health, leisure, means t' improve it, friendship, 

peace, 
No loose and wanton, though a wand'ring, muse, 
And constant occupation without care." 

Evening, which has ever been a favourite 
of the poets, seems to have been peculiarly 
grateful to Cowper, and no writer has so 
justly described the elegant occupations of a 



LIFE OF COWPER. 5* 

winter's evening in the country. How sooth- 
ing and descriptive is the following apos- 
trophe ! 

" Come Ev'ning once again, season of peace; 
Return, sweet Ev'ning, and continue long! 

Come, then, and thou shalt find thy vot'ry calm, 
Or make me so. Composure is thy gift ; 
And, whether I devote thy gentle hours 
To books, to music, or the poet's toil; 
To weaving nets for bird-alluring fruit ; 
Or twining silken threads round iv'ry reels, 
When they command, whom man was born t» 

please, 
I slight thee not, but make thee welcome still. 
How calm is my recess! and how the frost, 
Raging abroad, ancf the rough wind, endear 
The silence and the warmth enjoy'd within ! 
I saw the woods and fields, at close of day, 
A variegated show ; the meadows green, 
Though faded ; and the lands, where lately wav ? 4 
The golden harvest, of a mellow brown, 
Upturn'd so lately by the forceful share. 
I saw far off the weedy fallows smile 
With verdure not unprofitable, graz'd 
By flocks, fast feeding, and selecting each 
His fav'rite herb: while all the leafless groves, 



J2 LIFF OF COWPER. 

That skirt the horizon, wore a sable hue, 
Scarce notic'd in the kindred dusk of eve. 



His description of domestic amusements is 
delightful, and it must be gratifying to the 
reader to know how Cowper passed his win- 
ter evening. 

44 Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast, 
Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round ; 
And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn 
Throws up a steamy column, and the cups, 
That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each, 
So let us welcome peaceful Ev'ning in. 
■#*'################# 

* * Here the needle plies its busy task, 
The pattern grows, the well-depicted flow'r, 
Wrought patiently into the snowy lawn, 
Unfolds its bosom; buds, and leaves, and sprigs, 
And curling tendrils, gracefully dispos'd, 
Follow the nimble fingers of the fair. 
The poet's, or historian's page, by one 
.Made vocal for th' amusement of the rest ; 
The sprightly lyre, whose tieasure of sweet sounds 
The touch from many a trembling chord shakes 

out; 
And the clear voice symphonious, though distinct, 
And in the charming strife triumphant still, 
Beguile the night, and set a keener edge 



'life of cowper. 53 

On female industry : the threaded steel 
Flies swiftly, and, unfelt, the task proceeds. 
The volume clos'd, the customary rites 
Of the last meal commence. A Roman meal ; 
Such as the mistress of the world once found 
Delicious, when her patriots of high note, 
Perhaps by moon-light, at their humble doors, 
And under an old oak's domestic shade, 
Enjoy'd — spare feast! a radish and an egg! 
Discourse ensues, not trivial, yet not dull, 
Nor such as with a frown forbids the play 
Of fancy, or proscribes the sound of mirth : 
Nor do we madly, like an impious world, 
Who deem religion frenzy, and the God 
That made them an intruder on Jheir joys, 
Start at his awful name, or deem his praise 
A jarring note. Themes of a graver tone, 
Exciting oft our gratitude and love, 
While we retrace with memory's pointing wand, 
That calls the past to our exact review, 
The dangers we have 'scap'd, the broken snare, 
The disappointed foe, deli v 'ranee found 
Unlook'd for, life preserv'd, and peace restor'd — 
Fruits of omnipotent eternal love. 
Oh ev'nings worthy of the gods ! exclaim'd 
The Sabine bard. Oh ev'nings! I reply, 
More to be priz'd and coveted than yours, 
As more illumin'd, and with nobler truths, 
That I, and mine, and those we love, enjoy. *' 
E 



54 LIFE OF COWPER. 

His taste for botany is admirably describ- 
ed in the third book of the Task ; and in one 
of his smaller poems he tells us, 

" The green-house is my summer seatf 
My shrubs, displac'd from that retreat, 
Enjoy'd the open air." 

That he was successful in the cultivation 
of plants and flowers is evident from his 
pleasing piece, entitled " The Winter Nose- 
gay, 5 ' in which he celebrates the tender 
friendship of Mrs. Unwin. 

What nature, alas ! has denied 

To the delicate growth of our isle, 
Art has in a measure supplied, 

And winter is deck'd with a smile. 
See, Mary, what beauties I bring 

From the shelter of that sunny shed, 
Where the flow'rs have the charms of the spring, 

Though abroad they are frozen and dead. 

See how they have safely surviv'd 

The frowns of a sky so severe ; 
Such Mary's true love, that has liv'd 

Through many a turbulent year* 



LIFE OF COWPER. 55 

The charms of the late blowing rose 

Seem grac'd with a livelier hue, s 

And the winter of sorrow best shows 
The truth of a friend such as you." » 

These stanzas were the effusions of an af- 
fectionate heart ; yet it is not apparent, from 
his writings, that Cowper ever was in love. 
His verses, addressed to the fair-sex, are ei- 
ther complimentary or admonitory. He felt 
not that impassioned admiration of feminine 
beauty, which gives such an affecting anima- 
tion and pathos to the poetry of Dryden and 
Pope. But their lips were, indeed, touched 
with fire from the altar of love. Esteem 
was more probably the basis of Cowper 's at- 
tachment to Mrs. Unwin. In his intercourse 
with this lady, our poet seems to have adopt- 
ed the sentiment of Milton : 

" In loving thou do'st well, in passion not. 
True love strikes root in reason, passion's foe." 

It appears, indeed, that he at one time in- 
tended to repay the tender friendship of Mrs. 
Unwin by a union; nay, it was reported that 
they were privately married. This report, 
however, was unfounded, and owed its ex- 



50 LIFE OF COWPER. 

istence to that gossiping disposition so preva- 
lent in a small town or village, where, from 
the scantiness of intelligence, the inhabit- 
ants are sometimes obliged to exercise their 
invention. Indeed, it is probable that his 
attachment to Mary was nothing more than 
esteem, for she was remarkably homely, both 
in form and face, though possessed of the 
mental beauties of good-nature and genero- 
sity. 

Another curious anecdote must not be 
omitted. Among the numerous instances of 
Mrs. Unwinds benevolence, she took into her 
protection a female child, named Anna Wil- 
son. As the girl grew up, she was taught to 
read and write, and was afterwards bound ap- 
prentice to a mantua-maker. Anna was beau- 
tiful, and, conscious of her charms, she be- 
came proud, and was very attentive to the de- 
coration of her person. The kind attention 
of Mrs. Unwin, and our amiable bard, to 
whose liberality she was indebted for educa- 
tion, induced this vain and giddy young crea- 
ture to boast, that Cowper would have mar- 
ried her, had she consented. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 57 

It is not improbable, indeed, that, with a 
heart so susceptible as his, and viewing the 
beautiful forms of nature with "the. poet's 
eye," he might have expressed his admiration 
of the charms of Anna, without being under 
the influence of love. Our poet's inter- 
course with Lady Austin, and its termination, 
have already been mentioned. 

Cowper always supported his dignity, as 
an independent private gentleman, in his 
dress, manners, and liberality ; and was called 
Squire Cowper by the neighbouring pea- 
santry. The carrier, who brought a parcel 
from Mr. C hater to the author of this Sketch, 
on a portrait being taken out, said, " That is 
like Squire Cowper." 

Next to his piety to the Great Creator, be- 
neficence was one of Cowper's most conspi- 
cuous virtues, and the philanthropy diffused 
throughout his works will warm many a hu- 
man breast with similar emotions. His detesta- 
tion of the slave trade is expressed with true 
pathos, in the following lines : 



58 LIFE OF COWPER. 

" Ah ! what wish can prosper, or what pray'f, 
For merchants rich in cargoes of despair, 
Who drive a loathsome traffic, gage and span, 
And buy the muscles and the bones of man! 
The tender ties of father, husband, friend, 
All bonds of nature in that moment end ; 
The sable warrior, frantic with regret 
Of her he loves, and never can forget, 
Loses in tears the far-receding shore, 
But not the thought that they must meet no more ; 
Depriv'd of her, and freedom at a blow, 
What has he left that he can yet forego ? 
Yes, to deep sadness sullenly resign'd, 
He feels his body's bondage in his mind ; 
Puts off his gen'rous nature ; and, to suit 
His manners with his fate, puts on the brute. 

Can' st thou, and honour'd with a Christian name, 
Buy what is woman-born, and feel no shame ? 

A Briton knows or if he knows it not, 

The Scripture plac'd within his reach, he ought — 

That souls have no discriminating hue, 

Alike important in their Maker's view. 

That none are free from blemish since the fall ; 

And love divine has paid one price for all. 

The wretch that works and weeps without relief, 

Has one that notices his silent grief. 

He, from whose hand alone all pow'r proceeds, 

Ranks its abuse among the foulest deeds, 

Considers all injustice with a frown, 

And marks the man that treads his fellow down. 



LIFE OF COWPER. £9 

Begone ! — the whip and bell in that hard hand, 
Are hateful ensigns of usurp'd command. 
Not Mexico could purchase kings a claim 
To scourge him, weariness his only blame. 
Remember, heav'n has an avenging rod— 
T'o smite the poor is treason against God f" 

These generous and humane sentiments are 
still further corroborated by a passage in the 
Task, where he says, 

# * # * ]Vfan devotes his brother ; 
Chains him, and tasks him, and exacts his sweat 
With stripes, that Mercy, with a bleeding hearty 
Weeps when she sees inflicted on a beast. 

I would not have a slave to till my ground, 
To carry me, to fan me while I sleep, 
And tremble when I wake, for all the wealth 
That sinews bought and sold have ever earn'd. 
No : dear as freedom is, and in my heart's 
Just estimation priz'd above all price, 
I had much rather be myself the slave, 
And wear the bonds, than fasten them on him. v 

For the particulars of the bondage of the 
Negroes in the West-India plantations, the 
poet was indebted to an intimate friend, who 
had formerly been captain of a ship in the 
slave trade, and who conceived such an ab~ 



6o THE LIFE OF C0WPE1U 

horrence of the cruelties he witnessed, that 
he relinquished the business, and is now a 
preacher of the Gospel ! 

The benevolence of Cowper was active 
and diffusive : it did not consist in empty- 
professions, like that wretched affectation of 
humanity which we behold in the works of 
some modern writers. Cowper's charity, 
like a cultured vine, was productive of more 
fruit than leaves. 

Mrs. Barbauld says, 

" The well-taught philosophic mind 

To all compassion gives ; 
Casts round the world an equal eye, 

And feels for all that lives." 

Such was the disposition of Cowper, who, 
though a true patriot, was at the same time a 
citizen of the world. On this subject, he 
says, 

U I was born of woman, and drew milk, 
As sweet as charity from human breasts, 
I think, articulate, I laugh and weep, 
And exercise all functions of a man. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 6.1.. 

How then should I and any man that lives 
Be strangers to each other?'* 

William and Elizabeth Boswell, the indus- 
trious couple mentioned with such sympathy 
in the Fourth Book of the Task, were not 
only relieved by the bounty of the poet him- 
self, but also, by his recommendation, shared 
the munificence of the late Mr. Thornton of 
Clapham, Surry. A man who, to quote the 
emphatical encomium of his friend, denied 
the distant poor " nothing but his name." 

The poet's prophetic promise of future 
comfort, is now happily realized to this worthy 
couple, whose " numerous progeny" repay 
the former cares of their parents with filial 
gratitude. 

Elizabeth Boswell was Gowper's nurse 
during his long indisposition; and, after his 
recovery, he often visited her lowly cottage, 
and not only administered pecuniary aid, but, 
with all the humility of a devout Christian, 
poured out many a fervent prayer for the. 
happiness of the rustic family. 



62 LIFE OF COWPER. 

Cowper possessed a very just idea of duty 
to his relatives, and has left a pleasing memo- 
rial of filial love in the lines written on the 
receipt of his mother's picture. He had lost 
this beloved parent in his infancy, and her 
portrait, presented to him after the lapse of 
more than half a century, brought the tender 
recollection of her maternal goodness into his 
mind. 

" Oh that those lips had language! Life has 

pass'd 
With me but roughly since I heard thee last. 
Those lips are thine — thy own sweet smiles I 

see, 
The same that oft in childhood solac'd me ; 
Voice only fails, else, how distinct they say, 
' Grieve not my child, chase all thy fears away !' 
The meek intelligence of those dear eyes 
(Blest be the art that can immortalize, 
The art that baffles Time's tyrannic claim 
To quench it) here shines on me still the same. 
Faithful remembrancer of one so dear, 
Oh welcome guest, though unexpected here ! » 
Who bidd'st me honour with an artless song, 
Affectionate, a mother lost so long."" 

The remainder of the poem must, like this 
quotation, prove grateful to every heart that 



LIFE OF COWPER. 63 

has known the bliss imparted by maternal ten- 
derness. 

Beside the account given of his brother's 
death, before mentioned, the poet celebrates 
his worth in the following lines : 

*■#*.*" I had a brother once— 
Peace to the mem'ry of a man of worth, 
A man of letters, and of manners too. 
Of manners sweet as virtue always wear^, 
When gay good-nature dresses her in smiles. *' 

His verses to several friends, and his undi- 
minished affection for Mary, evince that his 
heart was inspired with the most generous sen- 
timents of friendship. Nor was his humanity 
confined to mankind ; the brute creation also 
shared his attention, and he has most elo- 
quently pleaded their cause. Like Thomson, 
he describes the cruelty of the chase with in- 
dignant censure. 

******" Detested sport, 
That owes its pleasure to another's pain ; 
That feeds upon the sobs and dying shrieks 
Of harmless nature, dumb, but yet endued 
With eloquence, that agonies inspire, 
Of silent tears and heart-distending sighs. 



64 LIFE OF COWPER. 

Vain tears, alas ! and sighs, that never find 

A corresponding tone in jovial souls ! 

Well — one at least is safe. One sheltered hare 

Has never heard the sanguinary yell 

Of cruel man, exulting in her woes. 

Innocent partner of my peaceful home, 

Whom ten long years experience of my care 

Has made at last familiar ; she has lost 

Much of her vigilant instinctive dread, 

Not needful here, beneath a roof like mine. 

Yes — thou may'st eat thy bread and lick the hand 

That feeds thee ; thou may'st frolic on the floor 

At evening, and at night retire secure 

To thy straw couch, and slumber unalarm'd ; 

For I have gain'd thy confidence, have pledged 

All that is human in me to protect 

Thine unsuspecting gratitude and love. 

If I survive thee, I will dig thy grave j 

And when I place thee in it, sighing, say, 

I knew at least one hare that had a friend." 

In this passage, the easy and elegant transi- 
tion from a description of the hunted game to 
the security of his tame hare, is extremely 
beautiful; nay, perhaps, without a parallel, in 
the whole range of sentimental poetry. It is 
grateful to the feeling heart to participate the 
satisfaction felt by the. amiable bard in the pre- 
servation of an innocent animal, and the con- 
cluding lines are truly pathetic* 



LIFE OF COWPER. 6$ 

Besides his tame hare, Cowper had ano- 
ther favourite domestic animal; a spaniel, pre- 
sented to him by Sir Robert Gunning's daugh- 
ters, whom the poet has celebrated as 

" Two nymphs adorn'd with ev'ry grace." 

The sagacity and attachment of Beau is 
immortalised by Cowper in " The Dog and 
the Water-Lily," a poem, which, as it is de- 
scriptive of his retired walk, is interesting : 

" The noon was shady, and soft airs 

Swept Ouse's silent tide, 
When, scap'd from literary cares, 

I wander'd on his side. 



It was the time when Ouse display'd 

His lilies newly blown ; 
Their beauties I inteat survey'd, 

And one I wish'd my own. 

With cane extended far, I sought 

To steer it close to land ; 
But still the prize, though nearly caught, 

Escap'd my eager hand. 
Beau mark'd my unsuccessful pains 

With fixt consid'rate face, 
And puzzling set his puppy brains 

To comprehend the case. 



66 LIFE OF COWPER. 

But, with a chirrup clear and strong, 

Dispersing all his dream, 
I thence withdrew, and follow'd long ' 

The windings of the stream. 

My ramble finish'd, I re turn 'd, 

Beau, trotting far before, 
The floating wreath again discern'd, 

And, plunging, left the shore. 

/ saw him with that lily cropped 

Impatient swim to meet 
My quick approach, and soon he dropped 

'The treasure at my feet. 

CbanrCd with the sight, the world, I cried, 

Shall hear of this thy deed t 
My dog shall mortify the pride 

Of man's superior breed ; 

But, chief, myself I will enjoin, 

Awake at duty's call, 
To show a love as prompt as thine 

To Him who gives me all." 

This is undoubtedly one of the happiest 
productions of Cowper's muse. The de- 
scription is so just and animated, the sound 
is so perfect an echo of the sense, that we 
imagine we behold the faithful spaniel bring 
the flower to his master, whose good-nature 
and sensibility are so well expressed in the 









LIFE OF COWPER. 6/ 

lines marked in italics. Indeed, the fidelity of 
Beau, like that of Argus, mentioned in the 
Odyssey of Homer, is perpetuated in immortal 
verse. Cowper's quadruped Beau will be estee- 
med by the lovers of pathetic sentiment, when 
all the biped beaux of the age are forgotten. 

A conspicuous beauty in this little piece, 
and which is also observable in Cowper's 
larger poems, is the pious reflection with 
which he closes the description. Like Watts, 
he insensibly inspires his reader with devo- 
tion ; and, to use the words of Dr. Johnson, 
" it is difficult to read a page without learn- 
ing, or at least wishing, to be better. The 
attention is caught by indirect instruction, 
and he that sat down only to reason, is, on a 
sudden, compelled to pray*." 

* Vide the c< Life of Watts" in Johnson's Lives of 
the most eminent English Poets, a work that, for ele- 
gance of narration and justness of criticism, is un- 
equalled. This excellent biography has raised 
a number of imitators and compilers, insomuch 
that the shelves groan beneath their heavy vo- 
lumes \ these bookmakers, however, should confess 
their incapacity to rival Johnson. Ulysses only can 
bend his own bow. 



68 LIFE OF COWP|R. 

Cowper*s sensibility was to him a perpetual 
source of gratification when blest with health ; 
and his taste for the beauties of nature was 
consecrated by his piety. 

" He is a freeman whom the truth makes free, 

He looks abroad into the varied field 
Of nature, and, though poor perhaps, compared 
With those whose mansions glitter in his sight, 
Calls the delightful scenery all his own. 
His are the mountains, and the valleys his, 
And the resplendent rivers. His t' enjoy 
With a propriety that none can feel, 
But who, with filial confidence inspir'd, 
Can lift to heav'n an unpresumptuous eye, 
And smiling say — < My Father made them all! 9 
Are they not his by a peculiar right, 
And by an emphasis of interest his, 
Whose eye they fill with tears of holy joy, 
Whose heart with praise, and whose exalted mind 
With worthy thoughts of that unwearied love 
That plann'd, and built, and still upholds, a 

world, 
So cloth'd with beauty for rebellious man } n 

The line in italics reminds us of a passage 
in one of Watts's odes, entitled, " The God 
of Thunder." 

" We shout to hear thy thunder roar, 
And echo to our Father's voice. " 



LIFE OF COWPER. 69 

A sentiment that could only have been dic- 
tated by that perfect love which " casteth out 
fear." 

Such were the amusements, and such the 
exalted pleasures, enjoyed by Cowper when in 
perfect health. But moody melancholy too 
often came, like a cloud, to overcast this 
mental sunshine, and fill the bosom of an 
innocent man with false terrors and misery. 
This hopeless state he deplores in his " Ode 
to Peace :" 

" Come, peace of mind, delightful guest, 
Return and make thy downy nest 

Once more in this sad heart ! 
Nor riches I, nor pow'r pursue, 
Nor hold forbidden joys in view j 

We therefore need not part." 

The foregoing quotations certainly give a 
more interesting illustration of the character, 
manners, and employments of Cowper than 
could be communicated by a mere narration. 
It is indeed a fortunate circumstance that 
poets are generally egotists. They describe 
those scenes and events which have given 



JO LIFE OF COWPER. 

them pleasure or pain in such eloquent and 
impressive strains, that we sympathise with 
them in all their joys and sorrows. We 
ascend Cooper's hill with Denham; ramble 
through the groves and gardens of the Lea- 
sowes with Shenstone ; survey the scenery of 
the matchless vale of Thames with Thom- 
son ; and enjoy the picturesque beauty of the 
environs of Olney with Cowper. Doubtless 
many enthusiastic admirers of the Task will 
visit the Alcove, the banks of the " slow- 
winding Ouse," and the embowering groves 
of Kilwick*, exclaiming, with Pope, 

€i I seem through consecrated walks to rove, 
I hear soft music die along the grove ; 
Led by the sound, I rove from shade to shade, 
By godlike poets venerable made." 

In the character of Cowper there is an inter- 
mixture of weakness and magnanimity, that 
excites at once our pity and veneration. 
Possessing the elements of every quality that 
can adorn and dignify man, we find, both in his 
life and writings, sufficient proofs that he ever 

* The woods belonging to Mr. Throckmorton, 
through which the poet delighted to ramble. 



LITE OF COWPER. ?t 

\vas the pious Christian, the affectionate son, 
brother, and friend; the honest patriot, the 
true philanthropist. As for his occasional 
and illiberal sarcasms against the clergy and 
soldiery, we ought to impute them to the 
temporary influence of spleen. These senti* 
ments were not the offspring of the benign 
heart of Cowper, but merely the effects of 
disease. 

As a poet, Cowper may justly be ranked 
among the benefactors of the human species. 
This will readily be admitted by those who \ 
read his works, and no writer, ancient or mo- 
dern, has with more zeal and effect employed \ 
his talents in the cause of virtue. Doubtless f 
he will be mentioned in the history of his 
country as the greatest poet of the age in 
which he wrote. Let not his contemporaries 
then endeavour to depreciate his superior 

merit, or to rend from his tomb 

/ 

4C The laurel which the very lightning spares," 

No, let us rather pluck the nettle from his 
grave, and evince to the world our high sense 



7 2 LIFE OF COWPER. 

of his talents and virtues, by erecting his 
statue in St. Paul's Cathedral, as a tribute of 
national respect to his genius. 

The juvenile poems of Cowper were pro- 
bably vei y crude productions on rural life. In 
imitation of Virgil, and other pastoral poets, 
he tuned his doric reed to nature. Indeed 
the varying charms of rural scenery are well 
calculated to delight the youthful imagina- 
tion ; and the poet, yet unacquainted with 
men and manners, naturally turns his atten- 
tion to the admiration of the universe. 

The first volume of his poems opens with 
The Table Talk, in which various topics 
are discussed in a dialogue. There are se- 
veral beauties and defects in this poem. It 
is evidently written with great negligence, 
with respect to diction and harmony ; nay, it 
is, in some instances, inelegant and vulgar; 
among several harsh lines, 

" And eats into his bloody sword like rust" 

is not the language of a poet. It is the dig- 
nity of sentiment, and the knowledge of hu- 



LIFE OF COWPER, 73 

man nature which renders this poem valu- 
able. 

After a just eulogium on a heroic patriot, 
the satellites of oppression are censured with 
great indignation and spirit. In common 
with the rest of mankind, Cowper animad- 
verts upon the imperfection of kings and the 
inquietudes attached to royalty. He then 
proceeds to characterize the Briton with great 
energy and truth* 

" His form robust, and of elastic tone, 

Proportion'd well, half muscle and half bone, 

Supplies with warm activity and force, 

A mind well lodg'd, and masculine of course : 

Hence Liberty, sweet Liberty inspires, 

And keeps alive his fierce, but noble, fires. 

Patient of constitutional controul, 

He bears it with meek manliness of soul : 

But if authority grow wanton, woe 

To him that treads upon his free-born toe. 

One step beyond the boundary of the laws 

Fires him at once in freedom's glorious cause." 

This character he has contrasted with the 
levity and insignificance of a Frenchman, and 
proceeds to describe the benefits of liberty, 



74 *<IFE OF COWPER. 

and the miseries of licentiousness. His apos* 
trophe to liberty is very animated. 

" Incomparable gem, thy worth untold; 
Cheap, though blood-bought; and thrown away 

when sold : 
May no foes ravish thee, and no false friend 
Betray thee, while professing to defend. 
Prize it, ye ministers; ye monarchs, spare ; 
Ye patriots, guard it with a miser's care." 

The panygeric on the late Earl of Chat- 
ham is energetic and just; and his satirical 
remarks on the venality of statesmen in ge- 
neral is perhaps too true. The poet after- 
wards gives a most terrific description of 
a nation devoted to vice and luxury, confi- 
ding in its own power, and forsaken by Pro- 
vidence, he says ; 

11 They trust in navies, and their navies fail—* 
God s curse can cast away ten thousand sail ! 
They trust in armies, and their courage dies; 
In wisdom, wealth, in fortune, and in lies : 
But all they trust in withers, as it must, 
When he commands, in whom they place no trust* 
Vengeance, at last, pours down upon their coast 
A long despis'd, but now victorious,, host j 



LIFE OF COWPER. 75 

Tyranny sends the chain that must abridge 
The noble sweep of all their privilege ; 
Gives Liberty the last, the mortal shock, 
Slips the slave's collar on, and snaps the lock/* 



The nation to which the poet alludes is 
England; but an assumption of the prophe- 
tic office is in this instance ridiculous, and 
the unqualified charge of impiety unjust. 
Whatever luxury, vice, and dissipation may 
prevail in the populous towns of England, 
especially in the capital, the observer of hu- 
man nature will find, that the people of Eng- 
land, in general, are an industrious, honest, 
and comparatively, a pious people — a favoured 
nation, who, instead of being forsaken by the 
Deity, are, if we may judge from their com- 
mercial prosperity and local advantages, un- 
der the protection of his divine providence. 
The subjugation of this country to a foreign 
state is an event which Cowper the least of 
all men wished to see realized ; an event 
which we hope will never take place, con- 
fiding, as we do, in our navies, armies, the 
resources of the state, and the protecting arm 
of Omnipotence. 



76 LIFE OF COWPER. 

In this poem the description of the poet 
is exquisitely beautiful, equal in melody to 
some of the sweetest strains of Pope, and in 
sublimity to the rapturous stanzas of Gray : 

t€ I know the mind that feels indeed the fire 

The muse imparts, and can command the lyre, 

Acts with a force, and kindles with a 2eal, 

Whate'er the theme, that others never feel. 

If human woes her soft attention claim, 

A tender sympathy pervades the frame, 

She pours a sensibility divine 

Along the nerve of ev'ry feeling line. 

But if a deed, not tamely to be borne, 

Fire indignation and a sense of scorn, 

The strings are swept with such a pow'r, so loud, 

The storm of music shakes th* astonish'd crowd. 

So, when remote futurity is brought 

Before the keen inquiry of her thought, 

A terrible sagacity informs 

The poet's heart; he looks to distant storms: 

He hears the thunder ere the tempest low'rs, 

And, arm'd with strength surpassing human 

pow'rs, 
Seizes events, as yet unknown to man, 
And darts his soul into the dawning plan. 
Hence, in a Roman mouth, the graceful name 
Of prophet and of poet was the same : 
Hence British poets, too, the priesthood shar'd, 
And ev'ry hallow'd druid was a bard." 



LIFE OF COWPER. JJ 

This description is followed by satiric re- 
marks on versifiers, which, however, con- 
tain nothing worthy to be quoted ; for his 
own verses on this subject are prosaic and 
inharmonious. Indeed his muse seems to 
have exhausted all her fire upon the passage 
above cited. Towards the conclusion, how- 
ever, the poet becomes more animated, and 
gives an account of the origin and progress of 
poetry, in which there is little new. He be- 
stows a just eulogium upon Addison and 
Pope : but, after paying the tribute of praise 
to the melody of the bard of Twickenham, 
he concludes with the following censure of 
that admired writer : 

*' But he (his musical finesse was such, 
So nice his ear, so delicate his touch) 
Made poetry a mere mechanic art ; 
And ev'ry warbler has his tune by heart." 

If we may judge from the poetry of the 
present day, these warblers are mock-birds^ 
whose notes are destitute of the rich melody 
of him whom they imitate ; nay, Cowper him- 
self, with all his merit, is much inferior in 
tarmony, ease, spirit, and pathos to Popeo 












78 LIFF OF COWPER. 

The panegyric on Churchill is just : that 
caustic satirist was, as represented, 

lt Surly, and slovenly, and bold, and coarse, 
Too proud for art,;and trusting in mere force, &c." 

He concludes The Table Talk with ex- 
pressing his regret that poetry was not more 
generally consecrated to religion : 

u Pity Religion has so seldom found 

A skilful guide into poetic ground ! 

The flow'rs would spring where'er she deign'd to 

stray, 
And ev'ry muse attend her in her way.'* 

Dr. Johnson was of a different opinion, 
and, observes, with great truth, in his life of 
Watts, u that his devotional poetry was like 
that of others, unsatisfactory. The paucity 
of its topics enforces perpetual repetition r 
and the sanctity of the matter rejects the or- 
naments of figurative diction. It is sufficient 
for Watts to have done better than others — 
what no man has done well." 

The Progress of Error is a satiric and di- 
dactic poem, without order or connection* 



LIFE OF GOWPER. f$ 

Those frivolous occupations and amusements, 
which engage the attention of the majority of 
mankind, are severely censured. Music, 
the chase, Sunday-evening musical parties, 
gaming, and bacchanalian orgies, together, 
with other sensual pleasures, are exposed to 
the detestation of the reader. A transition is 
then made to a more refined species of 
amusement ; the perusal of novels and mis* 
cellaneous literature. A short review of the 
modern education of youth is followed by 
animadyersions on metaphysical theorists, of 
whom the poet thus speaks, 

li No wild enthusiast ever yet could rest, 
Till half mankind were, like himself, possess'd. 
Philosophers, who darken and put out 
Eternal truth by everlasting doubt ; 
Church quacks, with passions under no command^ 
Who fill the world with doctrines contraband, 
Discoverers of they knew not what, confln'd 
Within no bounds — the blind that lead the blind . ' * 

In this poem the rhymes are often incor- 
rect and feeble, the general structure of the 
verse harsh, and the diction prosaic. It is a 
grave satire* containing many just remarks 


















8o LIFE OF COWPER. 

upon life and manners, many practicable pre- 
cepts, and strict purity of moral sentiment. 



In the poem intitled " Truth," human pur- 
suits, and their termination, are compared to 
a voyage, in which man beholds " a sleeping 
fog, and fancies it dry land." On entering 
which, we are informed by the poet, that the 
voyager " reads his sentence at the flames of 
hell." This gloomy view of human nature 
may, 'with propriety, be considered a pro- 
duction of the poet when under the influ- 
ence of constitutional melancholy. 



He then descants on the pharisaical vice of 
self-righteousness, in which the hermit, the 
eastern Bramin, the nun, and the sanctimo- 
nious old-maid, are strongly pourtrayed. 
Humility, that guide to truth and happiness, 
is represented in the most amiable light, and 
the contrast of unlettered piety with learned 
infidelity is given in the following lines : 



The path to bliss abounds with many a snare ; 
'Learning is one, and wit, however rare. 






LIFE OF COWPER. 8l 

The Frenchman first in literary fame, 

(Mention him, if you please. — Voltaire.— The 

same) 
With spirit, genius, eloquence supplied, 
Liv'd long, wrote much, laugh'd heartily, and 

died. 
The Scripture was his jest-book, whence he drew 
Bon motSy to gall the Christian and the Jew., 
An infidel in health, but what when sick? 
Oh — then a text would touch him at the quick. 
View him at Paris, in his last career ; 
Surrounding throngs the demi-god revere : 
Exalted on his pedestal of pride, 
And fum'd with frankincense on ev'ry side, 
He begs their flatt'ry with his latest breath ; 
And, smother'd in t at last, is prais'd to death! 

Yon cottager, who weaves at her own door, 
Pillow and bobbins all her little store ; 
Content, though mean; and cheerful, if not gay; 
Shuffling her threads about the live-long day, 
Just earns a scanty pittance; and, at night, 
Lies down secure, her heart and pocket light; 
She, for her humble sphere by nature fit, 
Has little understanding, and no wit, 
Receives no praise ; but though her lot be such, 
(Toilsome and indigent) she renders much : 
Just knows, and knows no more, her Bible true — 
A truth the brilliant Frenchman never knew ; 
And in that charter reads, with sparkling eyes^ 
Her title to a treasure in the skies* 






<?2 LITE OF COWER* 

Oh happy peasant ! Oh unhappy bard t 
His the mere tinsel, hers the rich reward ; 
He prais'd, perhaps, forages yet to come, 
She never heard of half a mile from home ; 
He, lost in errors, his vain heart prefers j 
She, safe in the simplicity of hers. 
' 

Not many wise, rich, noble, or profound 
In science, win one inch of heavenly ground. 
And is it not a mortifying thought, 
The poor should gain it, and the rich should not? 
No-— the volupt'aries, who ne^er forget 
One pleasure lost, lose heaven without regret ; 
Regret would rouse them, and give birth to pray V; 
Pray'r would add faith, and faith would fix them 






there. 



The poet then proceeds to expatiate on the 
promises of the Gospel, its consolotary ef- 
fects in affliction, and the ultimate triumph of 
the believer. 

The Expostulation opens with a descrip- 
tion of England, at once poetical, energetic, 
and elegant; equal, if not superior, to that of 
Thomson in his Seasons, and Goldsmith in 
his Traveller, 



LIFE OF COWPER. 83 

After describing the charms of rural beauty, 
the abundance of wealth bestowed by com- 
merce, the pomp of luxury, and the various 
amusements of polished society in this isle, 
he proceeds to animadvert on our vices, by 
analogy in the following lines : 

# # * Israel dealt in robbery and wrong ; 

There were the scorner's and the sland'rer's tongue ; 

Oaths, us'd as play-things, or convenient tools ? 

As int'rest bias'd knaves, or fashion fools. 

Adult'ry, neighing at his neighbour's door; 

Oppression, labouring hard to grind the poor; 

The partial balance, and deceitful weight; 

The treach'rous smile, a mask for secret hate \ 

Hypocrisy, formality in prayY, 

And the dull service of the lip were there : 

Her women insolent, and self-caress'd, 

By vanity's unwearied finger dress'd, 

Forgot the blush that virgin fears impart 

To modest cheeks, and borrow'd one from art ; 

Were just such trifles, without worth or use, 

As silly pride and idleness produce; 

Curl'd, scented, furbelow'd, and flounced around, 

With feet too delicate to touch the ground, 

They stretch'd the neck, and rolled the wanton 

eye, 
And sigh'd for ev'ry fool that fluttered by. 



84 LIFE OF COWPER. 

He saw his people slaves to ev'ry lust, 
Lewd, avaricious, arrogant, unjust ; 
He heard the wheels of an avenging God 
Groan heavily along the distant road ; 
Saw Babylon set wide her two-leav'd brass, 
To let the military deluge pass : 
Jerusalem a prey, her glory soilM, 
Her princes captive, and her treasures spoiPd ; 
Wept till all Israel heard his bitter cry ; 
Stamped with his foot, and smote upon his thigh ; 
But wept, and stamp'd, and smote his thigh, ill 

vain — 
Pleasure is deaf when told of future pain, 
And sounds prophetic are too rough to suit 
Ears long accustom"d to the pleasing lute — 
They scorn'd his inspiration and his theme ; 
Pronounc'd him frantic, and his fears a dream: 
With self-indulgence wing'd the fleeting hours, 
Till the foe found them, and down fell the tow'rs. 

The following couplet contains a harsh and 
unjust satire on the clergy : 

When nations are to perish in their sins, 
'Tis in the church the lep'rosy begins. 

This censure is inapplicable to the clergy 
of this country, among whom are to be found 



LIFE OF COWPER. 8$ 

many individuals, at once ingenious, pious, 
and benevolent, the ornaments of their na- 
tion, and an honour to the human species. 
Throughout this poem, however, that pa- 
triotism, which appears in all Cowper's wri- 
tings, is predominant. With what animation 
does he describe the ardour and courage of 
our seamen ! 

The cry in all, thy ships is still the same — 
Speed us away to battle and to fame. 
Thy mariners explore the wide expanse, 
Impatient to descry the flags of France. 

A retrospect of the history of England is 
given by the poet, who concludes this piece 
with a pathetic exhortation to his country- 
men, recommending the practice of virtue 
and piety. 

In the poem entitled Hope, we have a most 
beautiful and animating description of rural 
Scenery : 

See nature gay, as when she first began, 
With smiles alluring her admirer, man ; 
G 



86 LIFE OF COWPER. 

She spreads the morning over eastern hills ; 
Earth glitters with the drops the night distils ,- 
The sun, obedient at her call appears, 
To fling his glories o'er the robe she wears ; 
Banks clothfd with flow'rs, groves fill'd with 

sprightly sounds, 
The yellow tilth, green meads, rocks, rising 

grounds, 
Streams edg'd with osiers, fattening ev'ry field 
Where'er they flow, now seen, and now conceal'd ; 
From the blue rim, where skies and mountains meet, 
Down to the very turf beneath thy feet, 

Ten thousand charms, that only fools despise, 

Or pride can look at with indiff "rent eyes ; 

All speak one language, all, with one sweet voice, 

Cry to her universal realm, Rejoice ! 

This poem evinces the author's knowledge 
of the human heart, and contains several pious 
and satirical reflections, without much con- 
nection, and evidently the spontaneous effu- 
sion of the mind. Like most satirists, he 
presents to the reader the dark side of human 
nature, and rather expatiates on errors than 
points out the means of amendment. A 
strong description, however, of the negli- 
gence of mankind in their performance of the 
moral duties, and of the wisdom and provi- 



LIFE OF COWPER. 87 

dential goodness of the Deity, is given in the 
following passage : 

Men deal with life as children with their play, 
Who first misuse, then cast their toys away ; 
Live to no sober purpose, and contend 
That their Creator had no serious end. 
When God and man stand opposite in view, 
Man's disappointment must, of course, ensue. 
The just Creator condescends to write, 
In beams of inextinguishable light, 
His names of wisdom, goodness, pow'r, and love, 
On all that blooms below, or shines above ; 
To catch the wandering notice of mankind, 
And teach the world, if not perversely blind, 
His gracious attributes, and prove the share 
His offspring hold in his paternal care. 

With what severity does the poet satirize 
" Church, Army, Physic, Law," in the fol- 
lowing passage : 

Now see him launcrTd into the world at large ; 
If priest, supinely droning o'er his charge ; 
Their fleece his pillow, and his weekly drawl, 
Though short, too long, the price he pays for all. 
If lawyer, proud whatever cause he plead, 
But proudest of the worst, if that succeed. 
Perhaps a grave physician, gathering fees, 
Punctu'lly paid for lengthening out disease. 



88 LIFE OF COWPER. 

If arms engage him, he devotes to sport 
His date of life, so likely to be short. 
A soldier may be any thing, if brave ; 
So may a tradesman, if not quite a knave. 
Such stuff the world is made of, and mankind, 
To passion, int'rest, pleasure, whim, resign'd, 
Insist on, as if each were his own pope, 
Forgiveness, and the privilege of hope. 

Although the above censure may, in some 
instances, be just, it is, generally speaking, 
too severe, and little better than an echo 
of the common, vulgar prejudices of man- 
kind. There is also a verbosity in the 
above description, which renders it feeble, 
and infinitely inferior to a similar passage in 
Pope's Essay, of the knowledge and charac- 
ter of men. 

" 'Tis education forms the common mind ; 
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclin'd. 
Boastful and rough, your first son is a 'squire, 
The next a tradesman, meek, and much a liar : 
Tom struts a soldier, open, bold, and brave ; 
Will sneaks a scriv'ner, an exceeding knave. 
Is he a churchman ? then he's fond of pow'r . 
A Quaker ? — sly : — a Presbyterian ? — sour : 
A smart free-thinker e — -all things in an hour." 



LIFE OF COWPER. 89 

In a conversation described by the poet, 
the sentiments ascribed to each individual are 
rather the suggestions of the poet's fancy than 
a just representation of human life. Towards 
the conclusion of the poem, a description of 
the benign effects of hope is given with the 
apt illustration of a reprieve to a criminal. 

The poem on Charity opens with a pleas- 
ing apostrophe to that virtue, and a tribute to 
the memory of Captain Cook. The descrip- 
tion oi the operations ot art is sprightly, ele- 
gant, and harmonious. 

Ingenious Art, with her expressive face, 
Steps forth to fashion and refine the race ; 
Not only fills necessity's demand, 
But overcharges her capacious hand : 
Capricious taste itself can crave no more 
Than she supplies from her abounding store: 
She strikes out all that luxury can ask, 
And gains new vigour at her endless task. 
Her's is the spacious arch, the shapely spire, 
The painter's pencil, and the poet's lyre; 
From her the canvass borrows light and shade, 
And verse, more lasting, hues that never fade. 

A still more poetical and interesting ac- 



90 THE LIFE OF COWPER. 

count is given of the various benefits of 
commerce : 

Heav'n speed the canvass, gallantly unfurPd, 
To furnish and accommodate a world ; 
To give the pole the produce of the sun, 
And knit trf unsocial climates into one — 
Soft airs, and gentle heavings of the wave, 
Impel the fleet, whose errand is to save, 
To succour wasted regions, and replace 
The smile of opulence in sorrow's face — 
Let nothing adverse, nothing unforeseen, 
Impede the bark that plows the deep serene, 
Charg'd with a freight, transcending in its worth 
The gems of India, nature's rarest birth, 
That flies, like Gabriel on his Lord's commands, 
A herald of God's love to pagan lands. 

The poet next describes the miseries aris- 
ing from the slave-trade, on which he ex- 
patiates with all the philanthropy of a good 
man, and the honest indignation of a friend 
of freedom. A most animated apostrophe 
to liberty is followed by an eulogium on 
the benevolent Howard. Philosophy is next 
introduced, and the pursuits of the astro- 
nomer is described with great force and 
beauty. The poet, after passing a condemna- 



LIFE OF COWPER. <)1 

tion on immoral satirists, concludes the piece 
with a description of the benign operations of 
Christian charity. 

The Conversation is a satirical poem, re- 
markable for the inelegance of its commence- 
ment, but containing several humorous stric- 
tures on men and manners. On the vice 

of swearing, he says, 

Oaths terminate, as Paul observes, all strife ; 
Some men have surely then a peace for life. 

The poet enforces his ridicule by the fol- 
lowing curious anecdote : 

" A Persian, humble servant of the sun, 
Who, though devout, yet bigotry had none ; 
Hearing a lawyer, grave in his address, 
With adjurations ev'ry word impress, 
Suppos'd the man a bishop, or, at least, 
God's name so much upon his lips, a priest; 
Bow'd at the close with all his graceful airs, 
And begg'd an int'rest in his frequent pray'rs." 

The character of Dubius is well drawn, 
and the censure of duelling animated and just ; 



9 2 LIFE OF COWPER. 

but the description of a coxcomb is puerile 
and feeble ; he says, 



I cannot talk with civet in the room, 

A fine puss-gentleman, that's all perfume; 

The sight's enough — no need to smell a beau— 

Who thrusts his nose into a raree-show ! 

His odoriferous attempts to please 

Perhaps might prosper with a swarm of bees. 

In the same page the Gallicism, a-la-mort, 
is made to rhyme with resort; and several 
other rhymes in the same piece are inharmo- 
nious. The excellent moral effects of a be- 
lief in revelation, both on the conversation 
and lives ot the primitive Christians, is then 
mentioned, and divine truth defended in the 
following beautiful illustration: 

Can length of years on God himself exact, 
Or make that fiction which was once a fact > 
No — marble and recording brass decay, 
And, like the graver's mem'ry, pass away : 
The works of man inherit, as is just, 
Their author's frailty, and return to dust; 
But truth divine for ever stands secure, 
Its head is guarded as its base is sure ; 



LIFE OF COWPER. 93 

Fix'd in the rolling flood of endless years, 
The pillar of th' eternal plan appears. 
The raving storm and dashing wave defies, 
Built by that Architect who built the skies. 

His remarks on wit are extremely just, and 
d perusal of them will probably repress the li- 
centiousness of many a sportive fancy. On 
the subject of literary composition, the poet 
seems to defend not only his own negligence, 
as a writer, but that affectation of ease and 
simplicity assumed by modern versifiers. 

A poet does not work by square or line, 
As smiths and joiners perfect a design ; 
At least we moderns, our attention less, 
Beyond th' example of our sires digress, 
And claim a right to scamper and run wide, 
Wherever chance, caprice, or fancy guide. 

Speaking of his seclusion, he supposes a 
change to have taken place in the manners of 
the world, and mentions that luxurious taste 
which has introduced several of the heathen 
deities as ornaments in painting and sculp- 
ture. The reflections on this subject are, 
however, towards the close, not only solemn, 



94 LltfE OF COWPER. 

but the allusion to an event recorded in Scrip- 
ture, is terrific. The poem concludes with a 
panegyric on the excellence of speech under 
the regulation of morality, which is illustrated 
by the following simile : 

Should an idiot, while at large he strays, 
Find the sweet lyre on which an artist plays, 
With rash and awkward force the chords he shakes, 
And grins with wonder at the jar he makes ; 
But let the wise and well-instructed hand 
Once take the shell beneath his just command, 
In gentle sounds it seems as it complain'd 
Of the rude injuries it late sustain'd, 
Till, tun'd at length to some immortal song, 
It sounds Jehovah's name, and pours his praise 
along. 

Retirement, contains a pleasing mixture of 
the descriptive, sentimental, and moral. His 
description of the lover overwhelmed by 
passion, and whose progress in life is impeded 
by fantastic woe, reminds us of a similar pas- 
sage in Thomson's Spring: and a just di- 
stinction is made by the poet between the 
idolatrous devotion of excessive love to its 
object, and the rational affection to which the 



LIFE OF COWPER. 95 

fair-sex are entitled by their accomplishments, 
beauties, and virtues. He says to an inamo- 
rato, 

Up — God has form'd thee with a wiser view, 
Not to be led in chains, but to subdue; 
Calls thee to cope with enemies, and first 
Points out a conflict with thyself, the worst. 
Woman, indeed, a gift he would bestow, 
When he design'd a paradise below, 
The richest earthly boon his hands afford, 
Deserves to be belov'd, but not ador'd. 

He then describes the melancholy man, in 
which he is supposed to have pourtrayed him- 
self* consequently, the passage is particularly 
interesting : 

look where he comes— in this embower'd alcove — 

Stand close conceal'd, and see a statue move ; 

Lips busy, and eyes fix'd, foot falling slow, 

Arms hanging idly down, hands clasp'd below, 

Interpret to the marking eye distress, 

Such as its symptoms can alone express. 

That tongue is silent now ; that silent tongue \ f2 \j%% 

Could argue once, could jest or join the song, V \ 

Could give advice, could censure or commend, ^ u ' 

Or charm the sorrows of a drooping friend. 




g6 LIFE OF COWPER. 

Renounc'd alike its office and its sport, 
Its brisker and its graver strains fall short ; 
Both fail beneath a fever's secret sway, 
And, like a summer brook, are past away. 

A satirical dissertation on the retirement of 
the statesman, the citizen, and the annual vi- 
sits of the dissipated of both sexes to the wa- 
tering-places, is succeeded by humourous 
strictures on novels and plays, and the poem 
terminates with a panegyric on religious re- 
tirement, the innocent amusements of rural 
life, and a modest account of his own pur- 
suits. 

Of the smaller poems in the first volume, 
some are descriptive, and others humourous 
and satirical. The Nightingale and Glow- 
Worm is a pleasing little piece, which incul- 
cates brotherly love by a happy illustration. 
Mutual Forbearance ought to be perused by 
all who are married, or intend to marry. 

The Verses supposed to be written by Alex- 
ander Selkirk, are such as might naturally be 
expected from a man lost to society. It is a 



LIFE OF COWPER. 97 

simple, beautiful, and affecting poem. On 
a candid review of the first volume of Cow- 
per's poems, it appears that they abound with 
defects and beauties, the numbers are often 
inharmonious, the diction sometimes vulgar, 
and the rhymes feeble ; yet several passages 
evince the true poet, and many radiations of 
poetic excellence and sound morality illu- 
mine and dignify his pages. 

The second volume contains The Task, 
Tirocinium, or a Review of Schools, and some 
smaller pieces. To The Task, however, 
Cowper owes his reputation, as a sublime and 
original poet. This admirable production is 
the best satirical and ethic poem published in 
our language since the time of Pope. It is 
written in blank verse, easy, elegant, and 
perspicuous; equally intelligible to the man of 
taste and the common reader, to whom it 
will afford both instruction and entertain- 
ment. There are, indeed, some inaccuracies 
even in The Task, and a few harsh passages; 
but they are overlooked amid the splendor of 
its embellishments, as a barren spot is unob- 
served by the eye which surveys a magnificent 



9$ LIFE OF COWPER. 

landscape. The doctrines of revelation, the 
social virtues, the duties of patriotism, and 
philanthropy, and, above all, the adoration 
due to the Creator, are enforced and recom- 
mended in strains worthy ot Milton. This 
poem is, indeed, Cowper's chef d'ceuvre. In 
his earlier productions, he had not taken suf- 
ficient pains in the selection of words, which, 
as he justly observes, are 

" Though apt, yet coy, and difficult to win." 

But the diction, as well as the sentiments of 
the Task, are evidently the production of a 
vigorous and cultivated mind. 

The first book of The Task opens with 
a description of various seats, from joint- 
stools down to the sofa. 

With the parody on Eve's address to 
Adam, the poet seems originally to have in- 
tended the termination of his Task; but this 
burlesque commencement, which is written 
in the manner of Phillips's Splendid Shilling, 
would never have attracted the notice nor 
the approbation of the public. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 99 

A more arduous task, than that of Hercules 
himself, was afterwards engaged in by the 
poet in book the first, who gradually deviates 
from the stiff and formal phraseology of bur- 
lesque poetry, into the elegant and natural 
language of description. 

A retrospect of his boyish amusements is 
succeeded by a description of the rural scenes 
around Olney, which were the daily object 
of his admiration. This passage has already 
been quoted*; but as only such passages as 
had a more immediate reference to his man- 
ners and amusements were formerly cited, 
we shall give the following animated sketch of 
the beautiful imagery of nature : 

Nor rural sights alone, but rural sounds, 
Exhilarate the spirit, and restore 
The tone of languid nature. Mighty winds, 
That sweep the skirt of some far-spreading wood 
Of ancient growth, make music not unlike 
The dash of ocean on his winding shore, 
And lull the spirit while they fill the mind ; 
Unnumbered branches waving in the blast, 

* Vide p. 35, 



,y 



lOO LIFE OF COWPER. 

And all their leaves fast flutt'ring, all at once. 

Nor less composure waits upon the roar 

Of distant floods, or on the softer voice 

Of neighb'ring fountain, or of rills that slip 

Through the cleft rock, and chiming as they fall 

Upon loose pebbles, lose themselves at length 

In matted grass, that, with a livelier green, 

Betrays the secret of their silent course^ 

Nature inanimate employs sweet sounds, 

But animated nature sweeter still, 

To sooth and satisfy the human ear. 

Ten thousand warblers cheer the day, and one 

The live-long night : nor these alone, whose 

notes 
Nice-finger'd art must emulate in vain, 
But cawing rooks, and kites that swim sublime 
In still repeated circles, screaming loud, 
The jay, the pie, and e'en the boding owl, 
That hails the rising moon, have charms for me. 
Sounds inharmonious in themselves, and harsh, 
Yet heard in scenes where peace for ever reigns, 
And only there, please highly for their sake. 

The poet then describes the inconvenience 
of solitude, contrasted with the sweets of so- 
ciety; and the reader is afterwards amused 
with the various beauties of an extensive 
landscape. His description of a grove is 
truly elegant : 






,'■! 



LIFE OF COWPER. 101 

How airy and how light the graceful arch, 
Yet awful as the consecrated roof 
Re-echoing pious anthems I while beneath 
The chequer d earth seems restless as a flood 
Brush'd by the wind. So sportive is the light 
Shot through the boughs, it dances as they dance, 
Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick, 
And darkening and enlight'ning, as the leaves 
Play wanton, ev'ry moment, ev'ry spot. 

That motion which prevails throughout the 
universe is described by him with great spirit 
in the following lines : 

By ceaseless action all that is subsists. 
Constant rotation of th' unwearied wheel, 
That Nature rides upon, maintains her health, 
Her beauty, her fertility. She dreads 
An instant's pause, and lives but while she moves. 
Its own revolvency upholds the world. 

The superiority of nature to art is well de- 
scribed in the following lines : 

The love of Nature, and the scene she draws, 
Ts nature's dictate. Strange! there should be found, 
Who> self-imprison' d in their proud saloons, 
Renounce the odours of the open field 
For the unscented fictions of the loom ; 
Who, satisfied with only pencil'd scenes, 
H 



102 LIFE OF COWPER. 

Prefer to the performance of a God 
Th' inferior wonders of an artists hand! 
Lovely indeed the mimic works of art ; 
But nature's works far lovelier. I admire — 
None more admires — the painter's magic skill, 
Who shows me that which I shall never see, 
Conveys a distant country into mine, 
And throws Italian light on English walls : 
But imitative strokes can do no more 
Than please the eye — sweet nature ev'ry sense.- 
The air salubrious of her lofty hills, 
The cheering fragrance of her dewy vales, 
And music of her woods —no works of man- 
May rival these ; these all bespeak a pow'r 
Peculiar,, and exclusively her own. 

Cheerfulness, the companion of health and 
virtue, is thus contrasted with the gaiety of 
fashionable dissipation, folly, and vice ; 

Whom call me gay ? That honour has been long. 
The boast of mere pretenders to the name. 
The innocent are gay — the lark is gay, 
That dries his feathers,. saturate with dew, 
Beneath the rosy cloud, while yet the beams 
Of day-spring overshoot his humble nest. 
The peasant too, a witness of his song, 
Himself a songster, is as gay as he* 
But save me from the gaiety of those 



LIFE OF COWPER. 103 

Whose head-aches nail them to a noon-day bed ; 
And save me too from theirs whose haggard eyes 
Flash desperation, and betray their pangs 
For property stripp'd off by cruel chance ; 
From gaiety that fills the bones with pain, 
The mouth with blasphemy, the heart with woe. 

His picture of the disconsolate state of a 
female maniac, wandering on a common, is 
well known. Perhaps the mournful tale of 
Crazy Kate has been over-praised. A simple 
picture of misery is indeed given; but the 
muse of Cowper was more conversant with 
horror than love, and seems better qualified 
to excite terror than pity. 

The tale is followed by a characteristic de- 
scription of a horde of gipseys. A transition 
is then made to civilized life. The supposed 
reflections of Omai, on his return to his na- 
tive country, are admirably described; and 
the first book of the poem concludes with the 
following just, animated, and satiric descrip- 
tion of London : 

Such London is, by taste and wealth proclaim'd 
The fairest capital of all the world, 



104 LIFE OF COWPER. 

By riot and incontinence the worst. 
There, touched by Reynolds, a dull blank becomes 
A lucid mirror, in which nature sees 
All her reflected features. Bacon there 
Gives more than female beauty to a stone, 
. And Chatham's eloquence to marble lips. 

SNor does the chissel occupy alone 
The powers of sculpture, but the style as much; 
Each province of her art her equal care. 
With nice incision of her guided steel 
She ploughs a brazen field, and clothes a soil 
So sterile with what charms soe'er she will, 
The richest scenery and the loveliest forms. 
Where finds philosophy her eagle-eye, 
With which she gazes at yon burning disk 
Undazzled, and detects and counts his spots? 
In London : where her implements exact, 
With which she calculates, computes, and scans > 
All distance, motion, magnitude, and now 
Measures an atom, and now girds a world ? 
In London. Where has commerce such a mart, 
So rich, so throng'd, so drain'd, and so supplied, 
As London — opulent, enlarg'd, and still 
Increasing, London? Babylon of old 
Not more the glory of the earth than she, 
A more accomplished world's chief glory now. 

She has her praise. Now mark a spot or two, 
That so much beauty would do well to purge ; 
And show this queen of cities, that so fair 



LIFE OF COWPER. 10^ 

May yet be foul ; so witty, yet not wise. 

It is not seemly, nor of good report, 

That she is slack in discipline ; more prompt 

T' avenge than to prevent the breaeh of law ; 

That she is rigid in denouncing death 

On petty robbers, and indulges life 

And liberty, and oft-times honour too, 

To peculators of the public gold : 

That thieves at home must hang ; but he, that puts 

Into his overgorg'd and bloated purse 

The wealth of Indian provinces, escapes. 

Nor is it well, nor can it come to good, 

That, through profane and infidel contempt 

Of holy writ, she has presum'd t' annul 

And abrogate, as roundly as she may, 

The total ordinance and will of God ; 

Advancing fashion to the post of truth, 

And centring all authority in modes 

And customs of her own, till sabbath rites 

Have dwindled into unrespected forms, 

And knees and hassocs are well nigh divorc'd. 

In the beginning of the second book, the 
poet laments the frequent wars among man- 
kind, exhorts to brotherly love, and describes 
an earthquake in lines worthy of Milton : 

The rocks fall headlong, and the valleys rise, 
The rivers die into offensive pools, 



106 LIFE OF COWPER. 

And charg'd with putrid verdure, breathe a gross 
And mortal nuisance into all the air. 
What solid was, by transformation strange, 
Grows fluid ; and the fix'd and rooted earth, 
Tormented into billows, heaves and swells, 
Or with vortiginous and hideous whirl 
Sucks down its prey insatiable. Immense 
The tumult and the overthrow, the pangs, 
And agonies of human and of brute 
Multitudes, fugitive on ev'ry side, 
And fugitive in vain. The sylvan scene 
Migrates uplifted ; and, with all its soil 
Alighting in far distant fields, finds out 
A new possessor, and survives the change. 
Ocean has caught the frenzy, and, upwrought 
To an enormous and overbearing height, 
Not by a mighty wind, but by that voice 
Which winds and waves obey, invades the shore 
Resistless. Never such a sudden flood, 
Upridg'd so high, and sent on such a charge, 
Possess'd an inland scene. Where now the throng 
That press'd the beach, and, hasty to depart, 
Look'd to the sea for safety ? They are gone, 
Gone with the refluent wave into the deep — 
A prince with half his people ! * * * * * 

This terrible picture of desolation is fol- 
lowed by pious and moral reflections ; but 
sentiments, of the purest patriotism, <are 



LIFE OF COWPER. 10/ 

intermingled with the leaven of satirical ani- 
madversions on the army, of which he says, 

How, irrthe name of soldiership and sense, 
Should England prosper, when such things, as 

* smooth 
And tender as a girl, all essene'd o'er 
With odours, and as profligate as sweet; 
Who sell their laurel for a myrtle wreath, 
And love when they should fight j when such as 

these 
^Presume to lay their hand upon the ark 
Of her magnificent and awful cause > 

After strictures on the effeminacy of mo- 
dern manners, and the passion for gam- 
bling, particularly horse-races, Cowper men- 
tions a subject more congenial with his own 
taste, Original Composition : 

There is a pleasure in poetic pains 

Which only poets know. The shifts and turns, 

Th' expedients and inventions, multiform, 

To which the mind resorts, in chase of terms, 

Though apt, yet coy., and difficult to win — 

T' arrest the fleeting images that fill 

The mirror of the mind, and hold them fast, 

And force them sit till he has pencil'd off 

A faithful likeness of the forms he views : 



S08 LIFE OF COWP£R. 

Then to dispose his copies with such art, 
That each may find its most propitious lights 
And shine by situation, hardly less 
Than by the labour and the skill it cost, 
Are occupations of the poet's mind 
So pleasing, and that steal away the thought 
With such address from themes of sad import, 
That, lost in his own musings, happy man! 
He feels th' anxieties of life, denied 
Their wonted entertainment, all retire. 

The poet then very judiciously mentions 
that the proper province of satire is to cor- 
rect follies only; but the reiormation from 
vice must be effected by more potent means 
— the preaching of the Gospel. Having most 
severely satirized a certain advertiser of en- 
graved sermons, and pourtrayed the foppish 
parson with the true pencil of ridicule, he 
describes the absurdity of certain popular 
declaimers, who seem desirous to distinguish 
themselves as men of wit and anecdote, ra- 
ther than the ambassadors of Christ, His 
animadversions on clerical error are succeeded 
by strictures on the mischiefs of profusion. 
His picture of a rout is well drawn : 

The rout is folly's circle, which she draws 
With magic wand. So potent is the spell^ 



LIFE OF COWPER.. IO9. 

That, none decoy' d into that fatal ring, 
Unless by heaven's peculiar grace, escape. * 
There we grow early gray, but never wise ; 
There form connexions, but acquire no friend;; 
Solicit pleasure, hopeless of success; 
Waste youth in occupations only fit 
For second childhood, and dovote old age 
To sports which only childhood could excuse. 
There they are happiest who dissemble best 
Their weariness ; and they the most polite 
Who squander time and treasure with a smile, 
Though at their own destruction. She that asks 
Her dear five hundred friends, contemns them all, 
And hates their coming. They (what can they 

less?) 
Make just reprisals ; and with cringe and shrug, 
And bow obsequious, hide their hate of her. 
All catch the frenzy, downward from her grace, 
Whose flambeaux flash against the morning skies r 
And gild our chamber ceilings as they pass, 
To her, who, frugal only that her thrift 
May feed excesses she can ill afford, 
Is hackney'd home unlacquey'd; who, in haste 
Alighting, turns the key in her own door, 
And, at the watchman's lantern borrowing light, 
Finds a cold bed her only comfort left. 
Wives beggar husbands, husbands starve their 

wives, 
On fortune's velvet altar ofF'ring up 
Their last poor pittance — fortune, most severe 



HO LIFE OF COWPER, 

Of goddesses yet known, and costlier far 
Than all that held their routs in Juno's heav'n— 
So fare we in this prison-house the world. 
And 'tis a fearful spectacle to see 
So many maniacs dancing in their chains. 
They gaze upon the links that hold them fast 
With eyes of anguish, execrate their lot, 
Then shake them in despair, and dance again ! 

In a single couplet he implicates both the 
clergy and laity in one general censure : 

A priesthood such as BaaPs was of old, 
A people such as never was till now. 

This is an illiberal satire ; for the fact is, that 
the unsophisticated English character never 
existed in greater purity than in the present 
age. In the metropolis, indeed, the spirit of 
commerce, and a general intercourse with ad- 
venturers from all civilized nation's, has, in 
some degree, perverted the morals of many 
English residents ; but the candid observer of 
rural manners will readily agree, that no 
people in the world possess a more perfect 
combination of good sense and good nature, 
more simple rectitude of morals, or a greater 
variety of true domestic gratifications. 



LIFE OF'COWPER. Mi 

The baneful influence of profusion, indeed, 
has in the capital the pernicious consequences 
described by the poet. But the wealth in- 
troduced by commerce, and not the laxity of 
discipline in our universities, is the source 
d£ this pro fusion and its concomitant dissipa- 
tion 

In the third book, after a beautiful apos- 
trophe to domestic happiness, we are pre- 
sented with the following description of 
modern manners: 

Thou art not known where pleasure is ador'd, 
That reeling goddess with the zoneless waist 
- And wand'ring eyes, still leaning on the arm 
Of novelty, her fickle frail support; 
For thou art meek and constant, hating change, 
A.nd, finding, in the calm of truth-tried love, 
Joys that her stormy raptures never yield. 
-Forsaking thee, what shipwreck have we .made 
Of honour, dignity, and fair renown! 
Till prostitution elbows us aside 
In all our crowded streets; and senates seem 
vConven'd for purposes of empire less 
Than to release th* adultress from her bond. 
Th' adultress! what a theme for angry verse! 
What provocation to th" indignant heart 



Hi 



LIFE OF COWPER. 






That feels for injur'd love ! but I disdain 

The nauseous task to paint her as she is, 

Cruel, abandon'd, glorying in her shame! 

No : — let her pass, and, chariotted along 

In guilty splendor, shake the public ways ; 

The frequency of crimes has washed them white t 

And verse of mine shall never brand the wretch, 

Whom matrons now, of character unsmirch'd, 

And chaste themselves, are not asham'd to own. 

Virtue and vice had bound'ries in old time, , 

Not to be pass'd : and she that had renounc'd 

Her sex's honour, was renounc'd herself 

By all that priz'd it; not for prud'ry's sake, 

But dignity's, resentful of the wrong. 

*Twas hard, perhaps, on here and there a waif, 

Desirous to return, and not receiv'd; 

But was a wholesome rigour in the main, 

And taught th' unblemish'd to preserve with care 

That purity, whose loss was loss of all. 

Men, too, were nice in honour in those days, 

And judg'd offenders well. Then he that sharp'd,- 

And pocketted a prize by fraud obtain'd, 

Was mark'd and shuinV d as odious. He that sold 

His country, or was slack when she requir'd 

His ev'ry nerve in action and at stretch, 

Paid, with the blood that he had basely spar'd, 

The price of his default. But now — yes, now 

We are become so candid and so fair, 

So lib'ral in construction, and so rich 

In Christian charity, (good-natur'd age!) 



LIFE OF COWPER. AI3 

That they are safe, sinners of either sex, 
Transgress what laws they may. Well dress'd^ 

well bred, 
Well equipag'd, is ticket good enough 
To pass us readily through ev'ry door. 

The poet then gives what he calls some 
account of himself, and proceeds to satirize 
a certain description of writers, who have, 
with propriety, been denominated Book- 
makers* 

Some write a narrative of wars, and feats 

Of heroes little known; and call the rant 

A history 1 describe the man of whom 

His own coevals took but little note ; 

And paint his person, character, and views, 

As they had known him from his mother's womb. 

If such was his severity against those fa- 
bricators of history and biography, who came 
within his observation, what would this sa- 
tirist have said to modern male and female 
book-makers, who, modestly assuming the 
name of philosophers, have contrived to ren- 
der their biographical compilations the ve- 
hicle ot those pernicious theories which un- 



214 LIFE OF COWPER. 

der the pretext of philanthropy, have a ten- 
dency to subvert the happiness of mankind. 

Those ponderous compilations, however, 
are useful, as they furnish employment to the 
paper manufacturer, the printer, and the pub- 
lisher. They may serve to fill the shelves of 
some lover of printed paper : but the purchaser 
and the reader may justly complain of their 
waste of money and time. 

Our satirist then proceeds to censure those 
modern philosophers, who trust to the deduc- 
tion of their own reason, in preference to the 
authority of revelation. Speaking of philoso- 
phy, as the handmaid of piety, he says, 



##*##### philosophy, baptiz'd 

In the pure fountain of eternal love, 

Has eyes, indeed ; and viewing all she sees 

As meant to indicate a God to man, 

Gives him his praise, and forfeits not her own* 



He then returns to his favourite topic, do- 
mestic and rural felicity, and describes his 






LIFE OF COWPER* \ 11 5 

tame hare, his amusements, and occupations. 
His description of a green-house is very ele- 
gant; but the preference of the country to the 
town, in winder, seems ill founded;, though ,, as 
he emphatically says, 

" God made the country, and man made the town. ,r 

Indeed it was impossible for the poet to 
form a just estimate of those peculiar en- 
joyments, presented by a populous and flou- 
rishing emporium, from which he had re- 
tired, to the seclusion of rural life, in conse- 
quence of mental depression. Retirement 
was the choice of the poet; yet it may be 
fairly concluded, that the ' human face divint* 
presents a more interesting variety to the feel- 
ing mind than the varied rural scenery of na- 
ture. " Talents, which in the country would 
continue dormant, like gold in the mine, de- 
velope and attain perfection in a rich capital. 
Even Cowper acknowledges this, though with 
deductions that might terrify the timid moral- 
ist from making the experiment *-." The poet 

* Vide Detector of Quackery, p. 89. 



Il6 LIFE OF COWPER. 

concludes the third book with an apostrophe 
to the metropolis. 

The fourth book opens with a description 
of the arrival of the post. A newspaper is in- 
troduced, and its contents expatiated upon in 
the following energetic and satirical passage: 

This folio of four pages, happy work ! 

Which not e'en critics criticise ; that holds 

Inquisitive attention, while I read, 

Fast bound in chains of silence, which the fair, 

Though eloquent themselves, yet fear to break ; 

What is it, but a map of busy life, 

Its fluctuations, and its vast concerns? 

Here runs the mountainous and craggy ridge 

That tempts ambition. On the summit see 

The seals of office glitter in his eyes; 

He climbs, he pants, he grasps them I At his heels, 

Close at his heels, a demagogue ascends, 

And with a dext'rous jerk soon twists him down, 

And wins them but to lose them in his turn. 

Here rills of oily eloquence in soft 

Meanders lubricate the course they take ; 

The modest speaker is asham'd and griev'd 

T' engross a moment's notice, and yet begs, 

Begs a propitious ear for his poor thoughts, 

However trivial all that he conceives, 

Sweet bashfulness ! it claims at least this praise.; 



LIFE OF COWPER-. llj 

The dearth of information and good sense, 
That it foretells us, always comes to pass. 
Cat'racts of declamation thunder here, 
There forests of no meaning spread the page, 
In which all comprehension wanders, lost ; 
While fields of pleasantry amuse us there 
With merry descants on a nation's woes. 
The rest appears a wilderness of strange 
But gay confusion; roses for the cheeks, 
And lilies for the brows of faded age, 
Teeth for the toothless, ringlets for the bald, 
Heav'n, earth, and ocean, plunder'd of their sweets, 
Nectareous essences, Olympian dews, 
Sermons, and city feasts, and fav'rite airs, 
Ethereal journeys, submarine exploits, 
And Katterfelto, with his hair on end 
At his own wonders, wond'ring for his bread. 

His address to winter is truly sublime; and 
the rural amusements of a winter's evening, 
compared with those of the fashionable world, 
is at once elegant and satirical. Indeed, Cow- 
per's excellence, as a descriptive poet, is evi- 
dent from several passages in this book, par- 
ticularly the description of public-houses, the 
waggoner, and the recruit. % 

In book fifth he describes the Empress of 
i 



I 



ll8 LIFF OF COWPER. 

Russia's palace of ice, expatiates on war, 
and other amusements of despots, traces the 
origin of monarchy, and ridicules the slavish 
adulation of mankind to some idol of their 
own creating. The following passage is truly- 
applicable to an adventurous usurper and his 
servile sycophants : 

It is the abject property of most, 
That, being parcel of the common mass, 
And destitute of means to raise themselves, 
They sink, and settle lower than they need. 
They know not what it is to feel within 
A comprehensive faculty, that grasps 
Great purposes with ease, that turns and wields, 
Almost without an effort, plans too vast 
For their conception, which they cannot move. 
Conscious of impotence, they soon grow drunk 
With gazing, when they see an able man 
Step forth to notice ; and, besotted thus, 
Build him a pedestal, and say, " Stand there, 
" And be our admiration and our praise.'* 
They roll themselves before him in the dust, 
Then most deserving in their own account 
When most extravagant in his applause, 
As if exalting him they rais'd themselves. 
Thus by degrees, self-cheated of their sound 
And sober judgment, that he is but man, 
They demi-deify and fume him so, 



LIFE OF COWPER. tig 

iFhat in due season he forgets it too. 
Inflated and astrut with self-conceit, 
He gulps the windy diet ; and ere long, 
Adopting their mistake, profoundly thinks 
The world was made in vain, if not for him. 
Thenceforth they are his cattle ; drudges, born 
To bear his burdens, drawing in his gears, 
And sweating in his service, his caprice 
Becomes the soul that animates them all. 
He deems a thousand, or ten thousand lives, 
Spent in the purchase of renown for him, 
An easy reck'ning ; and they think the same. 

His preference of England, on account of 
the superior privileges enjoyed by its inha- 
bitants, from their political constitution, is 
just : for though statesmen have, in some in- 
stances, presumed to infringe those precious 
liberties bequeathed by our wise and brave 
ancestors, England is yet free, nay, the only 
free country in Europe. 

From his descant on political freedom, the 
poet makes a transition to spiritual liberty, in 
which his satire on deists and modern philo- 
sophers is pointed and conclusive. Having 
stated the respective merits of patriots and mar- 
tyrs, in very energetic poetry, he conclude* 



i 



1 



120 LIFE OF COWPER. 

with an address to the Creator, at once sim- 
ple, sublime, and impressive : such as cannot 
fail to inspire the reader with sympathetic 
piety. 

Book sixth opens with a description of mu- 
sic, so exquisitely beautiful and harmonious, 
that the sound may with propriety be called 
" an echo to the sense" 

There is in souls a sympathy with sounds ; 
And, as the mind is pitch'd, the ear is pleasM 
With melting airs, or martial, brisk, or grave ; 
Some chord in unison with what we hear 
Is touch'd within us, and the heart replies. 
How soft the music of those village bells, 
Falling at intervals upon the ear 
In cadence sweet, now dying all away, 
Now pealing loud again, and louder still, 
Clear and sonorous, as the gale comes on. 

This is true poetry, and his preference of 
meditation to books is true philosophy. The 
distinction between knowledge and wisdom is 
just and elegant; for the mere pedant is ge- 
nerally proud instead of wise; while the un- 
reflecting part of mankind allow his claims to 



LIFE OF COWPEIU XfLl 

superiority, in consequence of their own in- 
dolence. Dr. Young is more severe on pe« 
dantry than Cowper: 

*' This book-case with dark booty almost burst, 
This forager on others' wisdom leaves 
His native farm, his reason, quite untill'd." 

Cowper is very accurate and perspicuous 
in the distinction of mere book-learning from 
that practical wisdom which is the fruit of 
observation and reflection : 



Knowledge and wisdom, far from being one, 
Have ofttimes no connexion. Knowledge dwells 
In heads replete with thoughts of other men j 
Wisdom in minds attentive to their own. 
Knowledge, a rude unprofitable mass, 
The mere materials with which wisdom builds, 
Till smooth'd and squar'd and fitted to its place, 
Does but encumber whom it seems t' enrich. 
Knowledge is proud that he has learn'd so much $ 
Wisdom is humble that he knows no more. 



His remarks on the submissive credulity 
of mankind, in their reception of the theories 



122 LIFE OF COWPER. 

of eloquent speculatists, are but too well- 
founded : he says, 

Books are not seldom talismans and spells, 

By which the magic art of shrewder wits 

Holds an unthinking multitude enthrall'd. 

Some to the fascination of a name 

Surrender judgment, hood-wink'd. Some the style 

Infatuates, and through labyrinths and wilds 

Of error leads them by a tune entranc'd,. 

While sloth seduces more, too weak to bear 

The insupportable fatigue of thought, 

And swallowing, therefore, without pause or 

choice, 
The total grist unsifted, husks and all. 

His description of a shrubbery reviving, in 
the bloom of spring, is highly poetical; and 
the pious inference drawn from the operations 
of nature are worthy of so excellent a moral- 
ist. He says, 

" Nature is but a name for an effect^ 
Whose cause is God;" 

and goes on to prove the unremitted vigilance 
of Divine Providence, in the continual pre-, 
servation of order throughout the, universe, . 



LIFE OF COWPER. 123 

The poet, after a satiric glance at fashion- 
able amusements, gives a lively description 
of the happiness of inferior animals, and con- 
demns the cruelty too often exercised by man 
over them. 

Every person of a. good heart, who has re- 
sided in the country, must acknowledge the 
beauty of the following passage : 

I would not enter on my list of friends 
(Though graced with polish'd manners and fine 

sense, 
Yet wanting sensibility) the man 
Who needlessly sets foot upon a worm. 
An inadvertent step may crush the snail 
That crawls at ev'ning in the public path ; 
B ut • he that has humanity , forewarned, 
Will tread aside, and let the reptile live. 

Towards the conclusion of this excellent 
poem, the author describes the restoration of 
all things, and invokes the Redeemer in strains 
of rapture : 

Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 
Receive yet one, the crown of all the earth, 



124 LIFE OF COWPER. 

Thou who alone art worthy ! It was thine 

By ancient covenant, ere nature's birth ; 

And thou hast made it thine by purchase since, 

And overpaid its value with thy blood. 

Thy saints proclaim thee king ; and in their hearts 

Thy title is engraven with a pen 

Dipp'd in the fountain of eternal love. 

Come, then, and, added to thy many crowns, 

Receive yet one, as radiant as the rest, 

Due to thy last and most effectual work, 

Thy word fulfill'd, the conquest of a world! 

The Epistle to Joseph Hill, Esq. is writ- 
ten in a strain of social familiarity and good 
humour, and contains some satirical strictures 
on the changeable disposition of man in his 
amicable attachments. 

Towards the conclusion of this epistle, the 
poet gives the following humorous oriental 
tale, ending with an elegant compliment to his 
friend : 

Once on a time an emp'ror, a wise man- 
No matter where, in China or Japan — 
Decreed, that whosoever should offend 
Against the well-known duties of a friend, 
Convicted once, should ever after wear 
But half a coat, and show his bosom bare. 



LIFE OF COWPER, 12^ 

The punishment importing this, no doubt, 
That all was naught within, and all found out. 

Oh, happy Britain ! we have not to fear 
Such hard and arbitrary measure here ; 
Else, could a law like that which I relate 
Once have the sanction of our triple state, 
Some few, that I have known in days of old, 
Would run most dreadful risk of catching cold ; 
While you, my friend, whatever wind should blow, 
Might traverse England safely to and fro, 
A plain good man, close-button'd to the chin, 
Broad-cloth without, arid a warm heart within. 

The Tirocinium, or, A Review of Schools 9 
is a satire against public schools, and contains 
a decided approbation of private tuition in 
preference to public education. 

This poem opens with a very dignified pic- 
ture of human nature, and an eloquent de- 
fence of the doctrine of immortality. His 
animadversions on public seminaries, howe- 
ver, are illiberal ; and his remarks on patron- 
age too severe. 

Of the smaller poems, in the second vo- 
lume, " Catkarina" is the most flowing and 
elegant, and the "Poet's New Year's Gift" is 



126 LIFE OF COWPER. 

a pleasing complimentary effusion. The Ode 
to Apollo is remarkable for pointed wit. As 
for the diverting history of John Gilpin, it is 
one of those humorous caricatures of human 
character which amuse the fancy, but mislead 
the judgement. In it the ridicule attached to 
the ancient train bands of London is misap- 
plied; yet we continue to laugh at the un- 
skilfulness of a London shop-keeper in the 
equestrian art; though, were we candidly to 
investigate the cause of our mirth, perhaps it 
would be found that the ridicule was as much 
attached to the poet as to his hero. 

The following tribute of a good heart to 
the merit of our poet was communicated by a 
friend at Olney. 

Copy of a Letter to William Cdwper, Esq. 
Philadelphia? 31110. 4th, 1796. 

My esteemed Friend, 

Perhaps thou art surprised by this 
salutation by an unknown hand, and thy cu- 
riosity may wish to know the character of the 
person, a stranger, who presumes to call thee 



LIFE OF COWPER. t2J 

his friend : he is a youth, a native of this ci=* 
ty, whose name hath never been sounded by 
the tongue of Fame. A few years past, For- 
tune shed her smiles upon his commercial 
employments, and promised him a profusion 
of her stores: but Adversity, commissioned 
by heaven, was sent to blast his hopes, and to 
visit him with the blessings of poverty. In 
the school of affliction he has been taught 
wisdom; he has been compelled to meditate 
on those things which truly belong to his na-* 
ture, and he now returns, with sincerity of 
heart, his gratitude to that, greatly good and 
wise Being, who has ever ruled his designs,. 
He is, by birth and principle, a Quaker; wilt 
thou permit suchayouth to call thee his friend? 

I. have been a frequent reader of thy Task 
and thy Essays in verse. I admire thy poeti- 
cal talents, but the efforts of thy mind, in the 
cause of true nature, have gained thee my 
love arid veneration. When my heart has 
been oppressed with deep sorrow, I have de- 
rived sweet consolation from the sublime 
truths, so beautifully illustrated and so ele- 
gantly enforced in thy works: my love of 



128 LIFE OF COWPER. 

thy virtues, and my admiration of thy talents, 
have led me frequently to enquire after thee. 
A few years ago I heard thou wast afflicted 
with a painful, lingering illness; my heart 
wept for thee — my concern for thy happiness 
and health has been continually alive with 
the tenderest solicitude for thy welfare. I 
have endeavoured to discover thy condition, 
but my enquiries were fruitless, and I am 
left in painful uncertainty of thy state. To 
know thou art well and happy will give joy 
to my heart. There are in this city, and 
within the circle of my acquaintance, many 
amiable, and some great minds, who love 
thee with true affection. Their interest in 
thy happiness makes them earnestly solicit- 
ous of a satisfactory account of thy present 
condition. Be assured that none but wor- 
thy motives have produced this letter; the 
heart by which it is dictated breathes a prayer 
to heaven, that thou mayest be blessed with 
peace on earth, and with that wisdom which 
shall finally lead thy soul into the world of 
joy. I am, 

Thy truly affectionate friend, 

Joseph Binghurst, Jun. 



LIFE OF COWPER, 12(J 

P* S. A female, who is alone in her room* 
at an hour nearly approaching to midnight^ 
adds her testimony to the above lines, and ac- 
knowledges the pleasure thy writings have 
given her with a grateful heart. May that 
Power, which has heretofore enlightened thy 
understanding, continue to be with thee, and 
bless thee ; mayst thou be preserved from eve- 
ry evil, and know thy evening sun to set in 
brightness, and when thy journey through this 
life is at an end, may thy immortal spirit^ 
which has so sweetly sung the praises of thy 
Maker on earth, be permitted to join that as* 
sembly, whose harps are attuned to his praise 
in a region where sorrow cannot enter. 

The following elegant sonnet, written by Mr. 
Thomas Park, of High Street, Mary-le-Bone, 
will doubtless prove acceptable to the reader. 

On receiving, as a posthumous memorial, a pair of green- 
glass spectacles, which had belonged to the author of 
"The Task." 

Not that there needed, venerable bard ! 

Aught more impressive than the gifted page *, 

* The gifted page alludes to a copy of Mr. Cowper's poems, 
received from the author. 



13° LIFE OF COWPERo 

To guard thy memory, or to latest age 
Rivet the fond remembrance that I shar'd 
Thy friendly thought, and thy benign regard 

Unshaken held. More could not need, meek 
sage! 

My life-long glow of reverence to engage, 
Or leave thy lov'd idea unimpair'd. 
Yet precious is the relique which did shade 

Thy living temples from i excess of light,' 
While fancy round each emerald circlet play'd, 

While genius flash'd beneath the mimic night, 
And hope, star-crested, shot a lucent ray, 
To light earth's pilgrim on his heaven-ward way. 

Cowper has not only acquired well-merited 
celebrity as an original poet, but also as a 
translator. A second edition of his transla- 
tion of the Iliad and Odyssey of Homer into 
'English blank verse has recently been pub- 
lished. 

It is not the intention of the author of this 
biographical sketch, to compare Cowper^s 

translation with that of Pope. Leaving the 
respective merits of these two great poets, as 
translators, to the decision of learned critics, 

<he now proceeds to draw a short parallel of 
them as original writers. 



LIFE OF COWPER. 13 1 

In descriptive poetry, Cowper is not so 
flowing and harmonious as Pope, yet he ge- 
nerally presents a more faithful picture of na- 
ture to the reader's imagination. Instead of 
calling up the shades of the illustrious dead 
to people the landscape, as Pope has done in 
his Windsor Forest, Cowper exhibits scenes 
of cultivated nature, illumined by the light 
of day, inhabited by industrious husbandmen, 
and enlivened by flocks and herds, the lapse 
of rivers, and the melody of birds. 

As a describer of the operations of pas- 
sion, Pope was much superior to Cowper. 
His Eloisa to Abelard, and the Elegy to the 
Memory of an Unfortunate Lady, are not 
only more pathetic than any of the pieces of 
Cowper, but, perhaps, than any other poems 
in the English language. Nevertheless, though 
Pope describes pathetic incidents with more 
effect, Cowper excels him in the description 
of domestic tranquillity. 

As satirists, they have both great claims fo 

our approbation, insomuch that it is difficult 

"to determine which is superior. Perhaps the 



132 LIFE OF COWPER. 

general decision will be in favour of Pope, 
who is more sprightly and poignant, though 
Cowper is more energetic. They are both 
so accurate in the delineation of character, and 
decided in the reprobation of folly and vice, 
that their strictures must alarm the reader, and 
compel him, as it were instinctively, to a 
self-examination, whether any of the vices, 
which have roused the ire of indignant ge- 
nius, lurk undeveloped in his own breast. 

Notwithstanding the great merit of Pope 
in didactic poetry, Cowper deserves the palm. 
In his " Essay on Man" and Moral Essays, 
Pope displays a most profound knowledge of 
the human heart : but there is a tincture of 
levity in most of his pieces, which counter- 
acts their beneficial effect. In moral purity, 
then, which is the highest excellence of man, 
Cowper is not only superior to Pope, but un- 
equalled by any poet of the last century, ex- 
cept Watts. The principal excellence of Cow- 
per is sublimity, to which we may superadd 
strength, or that energetic mode of communi- 
cating ideas, by which he electrifies the reader, 
especially in the description of terrific scenes. 



LIFE OF COWPER* 133 

On the other hand, the excellencies of the poe- 
try of Pope are, sprightliness, spirit, ease, and 
a melodious flow which delights the reader. 

It may be inquired then, since the peculiar 
merits of these admired bards are so different, 
why attempt a comparison ? The answer is, 
because they were two of the most eminent 
poets of the eighteenth century, whose produc- 
tions will continue to instruct and delight while 
the English language is understood, * 

Indeed they are both not only amiable, but 
venerable. The poems of Pope may be com- 
pared to a handsome man, adorned with flow- 
ing robes, and beautiful as the Paris of Ho- 
mer. The more chaste and dignified verse 
of Cowper is like a well-made man in a 
plain habit, which displays to greater .ad- 
vantage the symmetry of his form, and whose 
countenance, like Milton's Adam, is ani- 
mated with the intelligence which beautifies 
"the human face divine" Pope excelled in 
grace — Cowper has more dignity — Pope is 
melodious — Cowper energetic. The verse 
of the former, like the melody of the flute, 



134 THE LIFE OF COWPER. 

charms the hearer; the verse of the latter, 
like the sound of the clarion, rouses and ani- 
mates him. Pope, like the nightingale, sooths 
the ear, and attracts us to the contemplation 
of terrestrial objects : but Cowper's muse 
soars like the lark, " and singing up to hea- 
ven gate ascends" bearing " on her wings, 
and in her notes" praise to the great Deity, 
whose power created, and whose pro- 
vidential wisdom and love sustain the uni- 
verse. 



THE END. 



PUBLICATIONS 

BY 

THE SAME AUTHOR, 



l. A SATIRICAL VIEW OF LONDON, 

comprehending a Sketch of the Manners of the Age. 
The second Edition, in one volume, 12mo. Price 
4s. 6d. in boards. 

4 € A very entertaining and well-written perform- 
ance, the author of which appears to be a man 
of extensive knowledge, and just observation, pos- 
sessing also an acute discrimination of characters and 
manners." Monthly Review for June, 1801. 

" This work affords entertainment, and may be 
perused with considerable profit by a numerous 
class of readers. The author's bill of fare will be 
found to contain sufficient variety, and may, per- 
haps, have something not ungrateful to every palate. 
We wish it a numerous and respectable acquaint- 
ance, and that it may do much good to the author 
and the public." 

Antijacobin Review for September, 1801. 

" Such works, when well executed, which this 
is in a considerable degree, act as supplementary 
to the laws j and men may be sometimes shamed 
out of the follies of fashionable life, who would 



Publications by the same Author. 

cling more closely to them, if they were prohibited 

by authority ." New Annual Register for 1801. 

" This is the second edition of a work which we 
have already noticed with approbation 5 but the pre- 
sent impression is so much improved, that it seemed 
to claim this brief notification.' * 

Monthly Mirror for January 1803. 

2. MEMOIRS OF ALFRED BERKLEY 5 or, 
The Danger of Dissipation, in one volume 
12mo. 4s. 6d. boards. 

" These Memoirs are entertaining enough, and 
evidently written by one who is well acquainted 
with the various scenes and characters of the me- 
tropolis. A young man, well born, and well edu- 
cated, is, for a time, drawn aside from virtue by 
the allurements of the town 3 but rs effectually re- 
called to a sense of morality and duty by the attrac- 
tion of an amiable and honourable attachment. 
Some novel-manufacturers would have extended 
this narrative to three volumes. The author has 
our praise for confining it to one." 

British Critic for October, 1802. 

3. THE DETECTOR OF QUACKERY , or, 
Analyser of Medical, Philosophical, Po- 
litical, Dramatic, and Literary Impos- 
ture. — Comprehending a sketch of the manners 
of the age. Second Edition, enlarged — Price 4s. in 
boards. 

For a favourable Account of this Work, see the 
Monthly Mirror for Decern. 1801, and the Month- 
ly Epitome for May 1802. 



Puhticatiens by the same Author. 

" That there is ground enough in this huge town 
for the detector of quackery to exercise his art, no- 
body will venture to deny ; and there can be no fear 
of any dearth ef game 5 only let him beware that 
he does not, like the London sportsmen, pour his 
random shot on unlawful game. Though Mr. 
Corry is a good marksman in general, this caution 
may be of great service to him ; since he is apt 
sometimes to be too careless in taking aim. To be 
serious, there are names in this little book, which 
we should never have expected to see in such com- 
pany, unless it were by way of contrast to the rest; 
which is not the case. 

"On the whole, however, the Detector of Quack- 
ery has merit of intention as well as execution; and 
when he tries his hand again, we doubt not that 
he will profit by our hints j taking them, as they 
are intended, in good part." 

Monthly Review for October, 1802. 

4. EDWY AND BERTHA ; or, The Force 
of Connubial Love ; being the first of a series of 
Original Tales, for the amusement of young per- 
sons, embellished with an engraving, 12mo. — ■ 
price Is. 

u In our Review of Literature for December 
last, we had occasion to commend the spirited style 
of Mr. Corry throughout his " Detector of 
Quackery 5" and we now have to applaud the ju- 
dicious management of a tale conducted with much 
dramatic effect. 

(( This is announced to be the first of a Series 
of Original Tales, written ' to preserve the youth- 
ful heart from the contagion of vice, and the seduc- 



Publications by the same Author. 

tive allurements of licentious pleasure; to incul- 
cate moral purity, and render even female beauty- 
more amiable, by inspiring the susceptive bosom 
with the love of rectitude.*' 

" We respect the writer's motive, and think well 
of his literary talents." 

Monthly Mirror for September, 1802. 

" This we understand is the first of a series of 
Tales for the amusement of young persons ; it is 
perfectly innocent, to a certain degree interesting ; 
and throughout evinces that scrupulous adherence 
to moral rectitude which we have repeatedly had 
occasion to commend in the writings ©f this au- 
thor." Antijacobin Review for November, 1802. 

5. THE ADVENTURES OF FELIX AND 
ROSARITO; or, The Triumph of Love and 
Friendship : embellished with an engraving. 
Price Is. 

6. THE SWISS REVOLUTION 5 or, The 

Fall of Albert ; with a frontispiece. Price Is. 

7. THE UNFORTUNATE DAUGHTER ; 

or, The Danger of the Modern System of 
Female Education $ with a frontispiece. Price 
Is. 

8. THE LIFE OF GEORGE WASHING- 
TON, late President and Commander in Chief of 
the Armies of the United States of America ; second 
edition, embellished with a portrait of the American 
hero. Price Is. 



Publications by the same Author. 
On the 1st of March, 1803, was published, 

No. I. 

Of a New Publication, entitled 

THE AMUSING COMPANION, 

AND 

FRIEND OF YOUTH. 

g^T For the general accommodation of young 
persons in every class of society, this series of Me- 
moirs, Adventures, Tales, &c. will be sold at the 
moderate price of sixpence each number. 

Number I. contains THE ADVENTURES 
OF EDMUND AND AMELIA j OR THE IM- 
PRUDENT CONNEXION. 



J. Swan, Printer, Angel Street, Newgate Street. 



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